


Sails (B-Team)

by crownedcrusader



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Jake-centric fic, M/M, britton smith version of jake dillinger, eventual jakemichael but yall already noticed that in the tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/crownedcrusader
Summary: Jake Dillinger is pretty sure he's a good person.It's just that Fate doesn't seem to agree, given the hand he's been dealt for Junior year. After all, the fire on Halloween didn't just burn down his house. It took away his sports ability -- and with it, his scholarships, his plan for college, and a sizable chunk of his self-confidence. And it hasn't been easy picking up the pieces all alone. Especially with the mounting pressure to figure out what he's supposed to do with himself after graduation.The last thing he expects to help him is Michael Mell and a college admission docudrama about SQUIPs. And yet, it might be just what he needs.





	1. you could want this

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Jake Dillinger is played by Britton Smith, a black actor, in the new off-Broadway production. This fic reflects that, meaning this isn't your average White Fav fic. If you can't stomach that, turn away and don't leave a comment, because I'm a Jake stan no matter the actor, and if you like him less upon finding out he's black in an official portrayal, then that says more about you than me.
> 
> Also: chapter titles relate to the song 'B-Team' by Marianas Trench. Seems to fit Jake's situation through the course of the fic.

Jake Dillinger is pretty sure he’s a good person.

He’s not, like, a bully or anything. He’s nice. Maybe some of his _friends_ weren’t always nice, but Jake himself has always prided himself on being less than a colossal douchebag. Maybe that’s setting the bar a little low, but considering the popularity contest that is Middleborough High, Jake’s pretty sure that not being a colossal douchebag is a pretty high achievement.

Even Rich knew not to be a douchebag in front of him, though Jake also knows maybe it would have been a good idea to try harder to keep him from being a douchebag to other people. But it’s also not his job to keep his friend on a leash at all times. Especially considering the whole… mind control thing. The night of the Play is still hazy, but that thing was a hell of a drug, and he gets why Rich was an asshole. But like, Rich was still an asshole, and a robopill doesn’t totally erase that.

Not to mention, he does _try_ to be inclusive. Sophomore year was when Rich first came into Jake’s life, and Jake didn’t even make short person jokes until they were friends and it was just part of bro humor.

And he’s never been shallow about girls. He’s been willing to hook up with pretty much anyone, and all of his girlfriends can attest that he was, bare minimum, never mean or a jerk, and universally a pretty good guy. For the girls that also treated him right, like an actual person rather than just _The_ Jake Dillinger, he was sweet and thoughtful and reciprocated how kindly they treated him. And no matter what, he never, ever cheated. Even if some of his rebounds came really, really soon after official breakups, they _did_ come after, so it still doesn’t count as cheating.

Maybe Jake’s not the smartest, but he knows people and how they work, and he’s good at reading people to figure out how to play a crowd. He’s good like that, uses his powers for good instead of evil and all that jazz. And even if he’s not a genius, it’s not like he’s stupid, either. He keeps quiet with his answers most of the time, doesn’t needlessly pipe up in class, but that’s because he doesn’t really need that kind of attention. He’s got plenty elsewhere, and he’ll save that for the kids that need it. He’s _nice_ like that.

He even saved Drama Club from getting cancelled, mostly by convincing all his friends to join up—all so Christine would still have her favorite after school activity. Sure, he also wanted to date her, but that’s not really _wrong_ —it’s not like he quit after they broke up. He stuck with it through the play, even after he couldn’t even walk for his parts.

So yeah. Jake is, officially, a nice guy.

It’s just that the universe doesn’t seem to think so.

Karma, God, Entropy, Fate, Nothing—whatever force was driving the universe, Jake definitely wasn’t being dealt a fair hand. Between the fire, his parents, his legs, and the whole… ‘surprise, your best friend is controlled by a robot!’ thing, and all of the other disasters that snowballed from those things… Jake’s pretty sure someone is out to get him. It’s not even a paranoid delusion. Just the understanding that fate seems like a gigantic douchebag, what with how unevenly it stacked Jake’s cards.

Except, the thing is, at the end of Junior year when he cracks that joke, people laugh along like they’re supposed to, given his tone—but they don’t really get the punchline.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Rich says. “Not all of us are born _handsome as fuck_ , with natural athletic talent and rich parents.”

“And a straight man in America,” Jenna says, not looking up from her phone. “That’s pretty important.”

Christine and Brooke say “Preach!” at the same time, and Jake feels a little like the wind’s been taken out of his sails.

Not _knocked out of him_ , so to speak—mostly because that’s a phrase he’s never gonna use again, after landing with Rich on his chest after the three-story-jump on Halloween Night.

Just _taken out of his sails_ , because what’s there to say to that? It’s true enough.

But it’s also not really true enough _to hold water_ , whether it’s stilled his sails or not.

After all, Jake’s still in physical therapy, even after wearing casts for four months and leg-braces for another month and a half. Not to mention he’s lost all his sports scholarships since coaches know he’s never gonna have the same natural talent or running ability even after he’s fully recovered. He’s been hoping to prove them wrong, but the college he signed on for wants him to try out for the team once he’s actually a freshman, and that—that’s a bit of a bummer.

And the whole rich parents thing? It doesn’t feel great since he knows they laundered money. It’s not a reflection on him, sure, but it has a big _effect_. Not to mention his parents got caught a month ago in Peru, meaning that everything they left him in insurance and fireproof safes and trust funds and secret bank accounts—that’s all he’s got left, ever since he’s become officially emancipated. Maybe it’s still a lot compared to most people, but it’s also in the hands of a teenage boy with no parental guidance. Jake is painfully aware of how much medical bills and unexpected house rebuildings can eat away at savings, and just how impossible it’ll be to make the rest last through college.

And maybe Rich calls him handsome, but handsome is relative, and Jake wants to be so much more than just handsome. And hey, not that it matters, but girls haven’t exactly been flocking to him since he’s been in a wheelchair and crutches. Not that he wants girls just for the sake of having them, but the fact that no one’s been coming says a lot about how much a pretty face means if it’s paired with a broken …everything else.

And also, Jake is _black_.

It’s not like it’s something in his favor.

He knows that Jenna doesn’t mention it, but the whole ‘straight man in America’ thing means a hell of a lot less considering, y’know, he still doesn’t have that white card privilege. And he knows Jenna knows it, because she gets it in a way Jeremy and Rich and Brooke and Chloe can’t.

He’s also not really sure how far the whole ‘straight’ thing can go when he’s already hooked up with a couple of guys in the past, and was planning more before Halloween happened. At the time, he was also an athlete, and he knew how much of a nightmare locker rooms could get if someone wasn’t masculine and virulently straight. Even now that he’s off of his old teams indefinitely, even now that several people in his friends group aren’t strictly straight, the feeling’s stuck with him. It’s always been easier to support others than himself, after all.

More than that, he also knows how tough things can get if he stacks marginalized status on top of marginalized status. The last thing he wants is to be seen as a collection of stereotypes and problems, until there’s nothing left of _Jake Dillinger_ to the casual observer. So until a relationship with a guy matters enough for him to come out, it’s not really anyone else’s business if he thinks there are some hot guys out there.

So as his friends move onto a different topic of conversation, Jake’s laugh joins in, too, a little delayed. It’s the tiniest bit uncomfortable-sounding, but they don’t really notice, and that’s just fine with him. He’s a nice guy like that—he doesn’t really feel the need to draw attention to how much else there is to him.

The wind is already out of his sails, and it’s easier to just laugh along with the crowd than dispute them.

Because hey, maybe they have a point. He _did_ have some cards stacked in his favor at the start of his life, and that’s a lot.

But there’s also kind of a lot that’s happened since then, in case no one noticed.

(In his self-reflection and going along with the crowd, Jake misses the way Michael’s eyes linger on him across the table.)

 

 


	2. see if it fits for a bit

The day goes about as well as it normally does, which is to say, it’s not terrible. Jake’s classes aren’t particularly hard, just time consuming—and he’s always left with more homework than he thinks is really necessary, but he guesses it’s fine.

Just more busy-work to do while he’s waiting at Physical Therapy.

He’s not really looking forward to it, since it always leaves him a sweaty mess because his trainer pushes him harder than he really wants to go, but it almost reminds him of sports practice that way, so he knows it could be worse.

However, as Jake leaves early—skipping his last-period P.E. class in favor of his doctor’s note for his physical therapy appointment across town—there’s just one problem.

For the first time ever, after having a car for almost two years, it doesn’t start when he turns the key in the ignition. No matter how many times he tries to get it to start, it refuses, and Jake finds himself sitting back in the driver’s seat with only mild panic.

He knows that like, in theory, he’s supposed to get a jump start. But no other students are released for the day yet, and by the time they are, he’ll be late.

He could ask people near the high school, but they’d be suspicious as hell of a black teenage boy cutting class, even if he can show them the proof of his doctor’s note. That is, if they’d even listen that long. And if they’d even take his doctor’s note seriously, given that he’s been out of crutches and leg-braces for a few weeks now.

The thing is, Jake knows theoretically that he could just call in and tell the receptionist that his car won’t start, because that’s a very adult thing to do, and Jake’s been making and cancelling his own appointments for years, anyways. But he’s never had to cancel one of these before, and it’s expensive, and he wants to get better, not let himself stagnate.

Maybe it’s the added stress of his friends not taking his problems seriously, or maybe it’s just the pressure of being an emancipated black teenage boy recovering from a massive injury, or hell, maybe it’s just a bad day and he’s—god forbid—having emotions.

Whatever the case, Jake ends up sitting on the hood of his car and forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. He’s not sure if the head-between-the-knees thing is all that useful here, but he tries that a little, too, before it becomes clear that that move was meant for people with full range of their knees.

He’s just barely starting to calm down when he hears a voice across the parking lot.

“I thought you’d be headed to PT by now,” says a very out of place Michael Mell, voice just loud enough that he doesn’t sound like he’s shouting, but that still carries across the lot. “Something wrong with your car?”

Jake stares openly, debating asking why Michael isn’t in class, but he thinks better of it for now. Mostly because Michael owns a car, and could presumably give Jake a jump-start if either of them could figure it out. “It won’t start,” he answers, voice not quite a yell as Michael comes towards him. “I must’ve left the lights on or something, I don’t know.”

“Sucks.”

Not quite the answer Jake’s looking for. Still, Michael’s not walking away. Instead, he takes his backpack off and takes a sip of a slushie with the seven-eleven logo on the side.

More curious than before, it takes some real willpower for Jake not to ask him how the hell he managed to sneak off of school grounds so easily. But his staying-in-his-own-lane wisdom pays off when Michael looks closer at Jake’s car. “I, uh, have some jumper cables in my car if you wanna try them?” he asks, like the deux-ex-machina saint he is. “I have to use them for my car a lot, so if it doesn’t start, it’s probably because my car’s a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, but a piece of shit car that might save me.” Jake takes his sweet time standing, not wanting to strain his knees, then wipes his sweaty palms onto his jeans before offering Michael a hand. “Seriously though, thanks. You wanna pull your car up real quick?”

Michael nods, and just like that, he goes off and pulls his crappy PT Cruiser up to Jake’s truck. It kind of breaks Jake’s heart to realize that his truck isn’t that much prettier than the ugly grate in front of the cruiser. Maybe Jake had once owned a flashier car—a 16th birthday gift from his parents—but after the fire… Well. It seemed like a better idea to just trade it in for something a little less flashy, and a lot more reliable.

The only problem is, Michael’s tiny cruiser isn’t up to the task of restarting something with an engine as massive as Jake’s truck.

After three tries, the pair call it quits.

Jake can’t quite help the frustrated expression on his face, but he wipes it away when he knows there’s no other option. So he pulls his phone out, fully intent on calling and cancelling his appointment, knowing that there’ll be a late-cancellation fee.

Michael steps closer, putting a hand over Jake’s phone, and Jake looks up at him in surprise. “Dude, who are you calling? Everyone’s at school.”

“My Physical Therapist. Obviously I’m not gonna make it in time.”

Instead of looking like the idea made perfect sense, Michael only looks at Jake like he’s lost his mind. “ _Or_ I could just give you a ride?”

“Don’t you have a class?”

“Free period,” he says. “Well, kind of. The teacher likes me and I get my work done, so sometimes she doesn’t mind if I just… leave after five minutes.” Somehow, it’s not the earthshattering ‘aha!’ moment Jake had thought it’d be, hearing how Michael always cuts class. “Sometimes she doesn’t mind if I don’t show up at all. Or if I like, show up towards the end of class and that’s it.”

The still half-full slushie makes it clear that the last of those options is probably the case, though Jake would be forever in awe of how quickly Michael Mell could go from school grounds to the nearest cornerstore and back. If Michael Mell hadn’t been considered a loser, he probably would’ve been a legend. Too bad high school isn’t that forgiving.

Jake shakes off the thought, then glances between his dead car and Michael’s tiny, old-fashioned little PT Cruiser, and at the phone number ready to dial on his phone. “What the hell,” he finally says, and nods. “I mean, thanks. Thought I was gonna have to cancel and pay like, two hundred bucks for cancelling. This seriously saves me, man.”

Saying thanks is almost worth the look on Michael’s face. He absolutely lights up, clearly happy to help, and Jake isn’t sure if he’s just a super sweet person, or if he just likes the idea of helping out Jake Dillinger.

Or maybe it’s pity, but Jake doesn’t dwell on that option. He doesn’t even have time to, considering Michael’s already a buzz of energy. “Course, dude, any time,” he says as he pats Jake on both shoulders, then takes a step back, unlocking his car in what would’ve been a smooth motion if he hadn’t bumped into the hood of his car and faltered. Jake couldn’t help the tiny smirk on his face, remembering just how much of a klutz he and Jeremy could be. Still, Michael continues on as if he hadn’t, the bright grin still on his face. “Toss your stuff in the backseat and hop in,” he finally says, before hopping into the driver’s seat, already fiddling with the ignition.  

Jake does just that, no matter how much it feels like a fever dream to be in Michael Mell’s ugly, beat-up, tiny PT Cruiser.  

Speaking of tiny, he adjusts the seat so it doesn’t put so much strain on his knees, and lets out a contented sigh once he’s stretched out.

“Comfy?” Michael asks, blissfully unaware of how Jake’s face warms at the mere mention. “Cool, cool. Anyways, my only condition about driving you is that we stop at McDonald’s on the way back. Or like, wherever, but we’re definitely stopping somewhere.”

“Fine by me,” Jake said. “I’m always starving after PT anyways.”

“Then we’re good on McDonalds? Awesome. Jeremy always pokes fun, but dude, there’s nothing more satisfying that greasy trash after a long day.”

There’s not a whole lot to say to that, considering Jake’s not really partial to any fast food brand, but to each their own.

And just like that, they’re on their way, with Jake’s phone giving them directions, and Michael’s weird foreign bands playing through the car radio.

The thing is, though, that for all the awkwardness and Jake’s uncertainty of how to make conversation with Michael, it’s kind of _nice_.

Michael’s weird, sure—that’s a given. But Jake’s sure that he’s the _good_ kind of weird. The kind that makes other people feel less bad about their own weirdness.

Even though Michael and Rich would probably like, never be close or anything considering the history between them, Rich always found it easier to talk about the nerdy stuff he liked when Michael was around. It kind of made Jake jealous sometimes, because Jake puts in way more effort to connect with Rich and yet Michael is the one getting results when he doesn’t even _like_ Rich—but… it’s still nice to see his old, possibly-ex, possibly new-and-improved best friend learning how to be himself again.

So after almost ten minutes of just K-Pop to fill the silence, Jake makes a real, solid attempt at conversation. A trash-bag rests near Jake’s feet, and in a desperate bid at figuring out what to say, he can’t help but glance at its contents, recognizing it as remains of a sushi container from seven-eleven. And he remembers, in a kind of grossed-out mental montage, that it’s something that Michael eats on a regular basis.

“So… Seven-eleven sushi, huh?”

…Spoken like a true conversationalist. And maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s something. And from the way Michael glances over at him with a baffled smile, it’s not going to be dismissed out of hand.

“I don’t think I need that kind of tone from someone who likes Sbarro’s better than Domino’s,” Michael says, referencing a real, actual lunch-time debate that had nearly escalated into war a few weeks ago. Just about everyone at the table had been playfully arguing over whether Pizza Hut or Domino’s was better, and Rich just _had_ to mention that Jake genuinely preferred Sbarro’s. Y’know, the brand affectionately dubbed ‘mall pizza’. Suffice to say, there had nearly been a brawl.

In the here and now, Jake just rolls his eyes, but a smile plays on his own lips. “I’m pretty sure seven-eleven sushi is still worse.”

“And I’m pretty sure you haven’t actually _tried_ it, so it’s not like you can judge. I, however, have had Domino’s, Pizza Hut, Sbarro’s, and way too many frozen pizza brands to count. I can, thus, make a real argument for Pizza Hut.”

“And I’m allowed to have like, emotional ties to Sbarro’s.”

Michael stops at a red light and turns to look at him, like he’s giving him a thorough examination. Then he lets out an unsatisfied humming sound and a sigh through his nose. “Then there’s literally no hope for you,” he says. He pauses for a moment, then in a smaller voice, “You really aren’t just pulling my leg?”

“It all tastes pretty similar to me,” Jake says. “And Domino’s and Pizza Hut have like, smaller slices? I don’t know. I just like it better, man, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal.”

“And here I thought you were _cool_.”

Jake’s surprised at the teasing tone, but then again, it’s not like he minds.

After that ice breaker, it’s easy enough to settle into a conversation. Nothing particularly meaningful, but Jake doesn’t mind. After everything at school, and knowing how much energy he’d be spending at physical therapy, it’s kind of nice not to think too hard.

Once they arrive, Michael parks close to the entrance before turning towards Jake fully, leaning his elbow on the window and keeping his other hand on the wheel. “You want me to come in with you, or just pick you up in an hour?”

And it’s said so casually that it takes Jake a second to realize that it actually means something to him, knowing that Michael actually asked. No one's offered to come to PT with Jake in a _while_ , especially now that he's so close to being fully recovered, even though it’s still hard. Maybe not as difficult as those first few sessions, where surgery after the Play’s premature walking had delayed his healing by an extra month or two, and he’d nearly buckled from his own weight. But it’s still difficult.

It takes Jake a second to find the right words. And when he sees Michael’s brows raise a little as he waits for an answer, he pushes one out long before he can decide. “I, uh,” he starts. “I don’t—I’ve got no real preference, man. Don’t worry about it either way.”

Michael considers him a little closer, eyes scanning down Jake through those massive glasses of his. “I’m coming in then,” he finally decides. “If I go out I’m just gonna end up spending a ton of money at convenience stores or something, and I gotta make my allowance last till the end of the month.” And just like that, with absolutely zero judgment, he gets out and heads around to help Jake out of the car.

It’s probably weird, but Jake feels strangely grateful for the easy way Michael accepts his limitations and wants.

It’s probably that easy acceptance that lets Jake go through physical therapy without freaking out about someone he knows watching him. His trainer doesn’t seem to mind that there’s someone else watching, someone else to give Jake encouragement, and Jake’s surprised at just how little he looks behind him to check and see if Michael’s judging him.

Mostly it’s a lot of stretching, running, and strength-building exercises to make his legs strong again. But no matter how the therapist trains with him and corrects his form, Jake knows he’ll never have the same mobility as before.

Even now, weeks after beginning training, he still aches after a few minutes of running—still winces at every misstep he takes. Every now and again his legs buckle and he trips in the halls, and isn’t _that_ a fun moment, seeing people actually stare at the wrongness of it. After all, injured or not, he was still supposed to be Jake Dillinger.

Jake Dillinger, who’s stubborn enough about looking strong that he’d used crutches instead of a wheelchair as much as he possibly could, even though _both_ legs were broken.

And still, he’s not obsessed with seeming strong in front of Michael. So when he’s hot-faced and panting from the intensity of the run, and when his legs buckle so much under a weighted lunge that the trainer has to step in and help him back up, he doesn’t get angry or frustrated or try to explain himself. Not the way he used to, anyways, when it was Brooke or Chloe or Jenna here all those months ago. Considering they’d only been there because he couldn’t drive himself when his legs were fully casted, it had been embarrassing and unavoidable, and he’d wished more than once that the fire would’ve just swallowed him up.

There was just something _wrong_ about being so weak in front of people who didn’t want to be there.

But Michael is choosing to be here, and Jake’s still not totally sure how that makes him feel.

So he just pushes through, hoping Michael isn’t weirded out seeing Jake Dillinger in such a spot.

And, when he finishes with legs that feel like jello and sweat dripping from what feels like every pore of his body, he hopes Karma’s got his back for this one. He slides a hand-towel around his neck and uses it to mop up sweat from his neck and face as he walks back toward the bench Michael’s sitting on.

“You said something about McDonald’s before?” Jake asks, sounding about as casual as he can.

To Michael’s credit, he just nods—doesn’t ask Jake if he’s okay, if he needs to sit down or how he’s holding up after putting his legs through that much controlled abuse. “Yeah—there’s one on the way back to the school. I texted Brooke, I think her mom's car might be able to jump-start yours, so we can meet her there once you’re ready.”

Jake stares at him for half a moment too long, then cracks the tiniest flicker of a smile. “Uh—yeah, thanks. That’s—You didn’t have to do that for me, man.”

Michael waves it off, then heads out the door, holding it open for Jake as he goes. And if Jake’s not imagining things, Michael’s face actually looks a little pink. “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, McDonald’s first. I’m totally starving.”

Jake laughs and holds the ends of his towel a little tighter. “My treat?”

“What? Dude, no. You’ve got more of a right to be starving than me. I literally hit seven-eleven right before this, I’m just fat.” At Jake’s snort of indignation, Michael just laughs. “Really though, it’s no big. I’m not broke.”

“But you did give me a ride.”

“And you gave me something to do after school that didn’t involve sitting in my room playing World of Warcraft by myself.” If Jake’s surprised at the open admission to playing a nerd game, Michael doesn’t give him even a second to express that surprise, and confidently plows right ahead. “Anyways, I’ll buy mine, you buy yours, no big deal. I was thinking of picking something up for Jeremy anyways, he’s been pissy at me all day.”

It’s an easy out, and Jake gladly takes it instead of arguing the point any further. “What do you mean, pissy with you? You guys always look like you’re over the moon for each other.”

Michael just gives him a look for now, as the pair of them slide into the old PT cruiser, with Jake visibly melting into the seats. They are not, as it turns out, all that comfortable—but any chair would’ve seemed like a massage-chair-slash-throne to Jake after the workout he’d just gone through.

Once Michael’s adjusted his mirrors and taken off, he finally speaks up again, taking long enough that Jake had thought he just wasn’t going to get an answer.

“He’s been struggling with some stuff,” Michael says. “It’s not like, that big of a deal, and I totally get that he needs someone to be there for him, but like, I can’t be that person every day, you know?”

It feels like gossip, and maybe even juicy gossip, but Jake is no Jenna, and he isn’t titillated by it the same way he knows she would be. Instead, he just furrows his brows, not entirely sure how to react to some out of the blue venting like that.

“Sorry to hear that, man,” is all he says at first, but he can tell by the way Michael adjusts his grip on the steering wheel that it’s a shitty response. So he tries again, a little harder this time. “I didn’t know he did stuff like that. Guess I figured he was totally past SQUIP stuff, but I guess I didn’t actually _think_ about it, either.”

Michael already looks a little more relaxed, looking like he doesn’t regret bringing it up anymore. “It’s not like, SQUIP stuff. More like the things that made him want to get it in the first place.”

 _That_ makes Jake sit up. “He’s not gonna get another, is he?”

“What? No, no, I just mean—like, he’s got his own stuff. He’s just… not really good at sorting through feelings versus facts sometimes, is all.” Michael’s face pulls another face, and Jake can tell he doesn’t want to be talking shit about his boyfriend. “Sorry. I just—he’s mostly pissed that I’m not applying for the same college he is.”

“You’re not?”

“Nah.” Michael pauses for a moment, cheeks actually going a little pink. “Well. I mean, I am, but it’s my safety school. I don’t actually care about going there, and if I get into UCLA, then I want to go there instead of Rutgers. Maybe even NYU, but I don’t know, that one’s pretty expensive.”

It’s probably the most actual, important information he’s ever heard from Michael before.

It’s not like Jake thinks about other people’s future much, but he’s definitely never thought of Michael’s before, and whatever tentative future he might have pictured isn’t whatever Michael described.

“UCLA?” is the first thing to come out of Jake’s mouth, shortly followed by, “Wait, why do you want to go to UCLA? That’s all the way across the country.”

Michael laughs a little, sounding the tiniest bit bitter. “That’s exactly what he said. But I guess you’ve got more of a reason to be surprised. I, uh—I want to go to a film school. I figure I’m never going to actually be a video game designer since I’m kind of shitty at art, but I’m good at film, and I’m really good at screenplay writing.”

“…Really?”

Michael actually rolls his eyes. “I’ll have you know I wrote the script for the Play last year. Jeremy and I always joke about the zombie apocalypse, you know? So I kind of rolled with it. It’s not the best thing I ever did, but I literally spent like, maybe a week on it. Stuff I actually care about, I spend a lot more on.”

“Holy shit.”

Jake is well aware that the script was kind of a disaster, but still, _someone_ wrote it, and for a reasonable adaptation to have been made up in only a week… He’s at least a little curious about what a better, more thought-out script from Michael might look like. Even if, like, reading and English isn’t exactly Jake’s thing.

“Holy shit is a better answer than what I thought you’d say,” Michael quips, just as they’re pulling into the McDonald’s drive through. “What do you want?”

“For you to tell me why the fuck this isn’t like, common knowledge—seriously, that’s _amazing_ ,” Jake says, then rattles off his actual order when Michael’s cheeks flush from the semi-compliment. Once Michael’s finished ordering, Jake continues as if they never stopped talking. “So like, are you going to film school so you can write movies or something?”

“Something like that, I guess?” Michael turns to look at him, expression surprisingly vulnerable. “I don’t know what I want to do for the future. I just know I probably won’t get to do what I want with my uh, creativity, if I just go to Rutgers like everyone else in New Jersey.”

“And definitely UCLA instead of NYU?”

“Jeremy wouldn’t mind going to NYU,” Michael says, like that’s actually what matters here. “I don’t know. I’ve never been anywhere without him, but I don’t really want to go there. I want to go to California, see the sights, embrace the gay, actually go to the beach and not freeze my ass off—that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense. No point going somewhere you’d hate living.”

“I know I can’t really talk ‘cause California’s not that much better, but I’m not a huge fan of crowds, and New York just seems like it’d be nothing but crowds. So. Yeah. UCLA. An actual film school. Not just a ‘visual and performing arts’ thing, though I’m sure Jeremy would love that.”

“It’s college,” Jake says. “It’s not like people usually stay together through college anyway.”

It comes out without meaning to, and Jake almost wants to apologize, because he shouldn’t just throw someone’s relationship under the bus like that—but even if Michael looks guilty about it, he nods anyways. “I know,” he says. “That’s the crazy part—I know it’s probably not going to last through college. He’ll meet new people and that’ll be the end of that.”

Jake can’t help but notice that he doesn’t say he’ll meet people other than Jeremy—the only worry he has is that Jeremy will find someone else and leave him in the dust.

Considering what happened last fall, though, Jake feels a pang of sympathy for Michael. It’s probably not as unlikely as he thinks. Sure, it’s really not the end of the world if someone doesn’t want to go out with you anymore, but it can still leave you feeling pretty sore, especially if there’s some trust issues to begin with, and the person who breaks up with you wants you to plan your whole college future around them.

Jake’s beginning to understand what Michael meant earlier. Maybe he’d only said that Jeremy was pissy at him, but it’s starting to sound like there’s more of a real fight going on than what it appears.

“I just don’t want to go in with that mindset, you know?” Michael continues, hands squeezing the wheel a little too tight. “I don’t want to go to college thinking that me and Jeremy are gonna break up, but I also don’t want to plan everything around him when I know that might end up happening anyways. I mean. No offense, but we’re _seventeen_.”

“Seventeen isn’t a good age to figure all this shit out, yeah. I hear you.” Jake frowns a little, trying to ignore the nagging little feeling at the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t be saying anything considering Jake currently has no plan for his own future. And yet still, he keeps talking. “College, relationships—it’s just kind of whatever right now, you know? Why do we have to plan all this out? We’re still in high school and they want us to figure out a whole career and how to get there.”

Michael looks beyond appreciatively at him, and even if Jake feels a little guilty, it also feels kind of good, making Michael look so relieved.

Which is probably a weird feeling to have, but Jake would gladly blame his physical therapy appointment for how tired he is before admitting Michael’s smile makes him feel a little warm inside.

“Yeah,” he says simply, before getting out a card for his and Jeremy’s food, while Jake gets out seven dollars in cash to chip in his amount and then some. Michael looks like he might not take it for a moment, but relents so he won’t hold up the drive through line.

Once they’ve got their food and are driving away, Jake wastes no time in plowing into his food, not really bothering to ask if Michael’s cool with people eating in his car since, well. It’s kind of hard not to assume that he is, given all the fast food bags already in here.

“So,” Michael says around a mouthful of fries, the only thing he can really eat while driving back to the school. “You never mentioned, what’s your plan for college?”

Jake almost winces, because that’s the exact question he didn’t want to answer. “Dunno yet. I signed a deal with Rutgers last year to be their new star quarterback,” he said. “Can’t exactly uphold my half of the deal anymore, so I don’t really know how all that’s gonna work out.”

Michael hits the brakes just a little too hard at the next red light, and Jake is grateful that no ketchup spilled, even if his burger now has indents from how tightly he gripped it at the stop. “You lost your scholarship?”

“Uh, yeah?”

It’s not exactly common knowledge, given that Jake doesn’t like dwelling on depressing stuff, but he figured most people would’ve put two and two together by now.

“So you don’t actually plan on going there anymore?”

“I haven’t, uh, thought about it much yet.” It’s an honest answer, even if it’s a little embarrassing. Jake takes another bite of his burger to stall on answering, even if Michael’s looking at him expectantly, well past when the light turns green. A honk from behind them finally gets them moving again, and as they start to drive forward again, Jake knows he can’t drag this out forever. “I don’t really know what I even want to do in college, you know? I’m probably gonna go into business, but literally every university has a business program, so it’s not like I have to be picky. My parents are alumni at UCLA, actually, but I dunno how much I wanna attach myself to their names.”

Michael gives him a funny look, and Jake remembers a little too late that not everyone knows about his parents’ scandal. He decides to keep it that way, and takes another big bite of his hamburger, signaling Michael that he’s done talking about this for now.

Michael, however, is not. “So you don’t know what you want to do,” he repeats. “That sucks.”

“Not really. I don’t think I really need to know yet. Plenty of people go in not knowing and just do like… the basics for the first year or two.”

“Right.”

Jake gets the feeling that he’s being judged a little, and he doesn’t appreciate it, not one bit. “I’ve got plenty of money in a trust fund though, even with my parents being wherever, so like—it’s not like I have to be picky about where I go,” he says, tone just a touch defensive. “So I don’t have to care _that_ much. I’m good at a lot of things anyways. I’ll probably just find something I like and stick with it.”

Even though sticking with things is one of the few skills Jake _doesn't_ have.

Whatever. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

Michael seems to relent—either that, or he realizes that they’re almost to the school. But as they’re parking in the now-vacant school parking lot, he turns to look at Jake with a serious look. “Well, if you don’t know what you’re gonna do, you could, uh, always help me with a project I’m working on for college.”

It seems out of the blue, and Jake stops mid-bite to look at him. “What?”

“A screenplay. I’m, uh, writing one for what happened last fall. Except I’m writing it like a documentary, kind of—a mix of documentary-style and regular filmmaking, like—have you seen Dave Built a Maze? Shit, no, probably not, it’s a super indie film. Anyways. I just want to do something kind of in that style, and I need a cast. I’m hoping to get everyone to play themselves, and I’m tweaking the actual writing, but—I just want it to be good, you know? So... could you, um, help, maybe?”

It sounds the tiniest bit vulnerable, and that’s probably the only reason Jake doesn't crack a joke at Michael’s obscure tastes or the randomness of the request.

Still, Jake’s busy with school and physical therapy and homework and feeling his life spin out of control around him. So he opens his mouth to say no.

And Brooke’s car pulls up into the parking lot and honks at them, and Jake’s so startled by her entrance that he says, “Yeah,” instead.

By the time Jake’s trying to correct himself, Michael’s already brightened, that dumb, goofy smile right back on his face, and Jake knows there’s no way in hell he can turn him down now.

“Thank you so much—Jeremy totally refused at first, since like, I get it, it’s a touchy subject for him—but like, if I can just get a couple of people to help me out, this is going to be so amazing,” Michael says, voice more cheerful than it has a right to be over something so simple. “ _Thank you_ , Jake.”

Jake leans over and grabs his stuff from the back of the PT cruiser, and smiles a little right back. “Yeah, uh, don’t mention it,” he says. “Just hit me up whenever you want to start working on it, I guess? I’m not much for writing or whatever so I can’t help with the… writing, but like, anything else I’m game for.”

Michael laughs and looks plenty happy about that. With another honk from Brooke telling them to hurry up, he just gives him a farewell as Jake gets out of the car on his still-weak legs, and starts to drive away when it’s clear that Jake and his truck are in good hands.

And maybe it’s because of that dorky farewell, but even as Jake meets up with Brooke and they jump-start his truck together, Jake can’t get Michael out of his head.

Or maybe it’s not just _Michael_ , per say—or not _all_ of Michael. Just the bits and pieces that he’d discovered this afternoon. The parts that were a little less dorky than he remembered, and a whole lot friendlier.

Maybe Michael’s likes some weird shit, and maybe he likes arguing and he’s prone to info-dumping, but Jake doesn’t actually _mind_.

But the parts that stick out the most to him are the fact that Michael helped him out today with no questions asked and no excuses made—and the way Michael had lit up when he’d smiled.

(When Jake goes to bed that night, he smothers his face in a pillow and tries not to glance at his phone every twenty minutes to check if Michael was actually going to text him about that screenplay idea.)


	3. and if you dont like it

Jake’s still not totally sure how he ends up in Michael’s basement on a Saturday afternoon, but he also knows there’s much worse ways to spend it. Like holing up in his room and being moody and miserable and shoveling fast food like there’s no tomorrow.

…Which was, admittedly, how he’d spent a multiple weekends, back when he was on doctor-prescribed steroids to speed along his recovery. Little known fact, steroids were a _bitch_ about making you hungry all the time.

But as far as weekends go—this, hanging out with Michael and going over a script, is a hell of a lot more productive.

Plus, gives him something to do where there’s no pressure to _perform_. It’s not like AP homework or after-school clubs that demand perfection.

—Not that he’s been in many of them lately, but it’s still pretty demanding, and he’s jealous of kids who’ve never been pressured to join a million clubs. He’s especially jealous of the kids that were never expected to be president of half those clubs. He feels kind of guilty about it, but there’s an underlying relief about getting injured.

Sure, he never left Model UN because his physical ability never really interfered with his mind or debating ability. But football and frisbee golf? Kind of hard to play on crutches. Even now that he’s off of them, it’s too late in the season to join back up. Not to mention his football coach is pretty intent on him not overexerting himself until he’s all the way healed. 

So he’s whittled down his clubs, and it’s awful and amazing at the same time. Because hey, less pressure to do everything. But then there’s more pressure to do great at what he’s still signed up for. Not to mention being hounded by Christine about keeping with Drama, but the thing is, even if he enjoyed it and liked trying it out, he doesn’t want to keep going with it.

Not when two of his exes are there, along with Rich, who falls into a category Jake doesn’t want to think about.

But at the end of the day, Jake’s got a lot more free time.

And that means spending that time at the newly rebuilt house

—The one that the insurance company paid for without asking too many questions just as long as Jake didn’t argue them making it way, way smaller than it had been before. Joke’s on them, though. Jake doesn’t mind having a smaller house, because it echoes a hell of a lot less this way.

Even with the house being less echo-y than before, though, Jake still prefers other people’s houses. And out of everyone he knows, Michael is the first new-friend house that he’s been in. He knows Chloe’s pretty well, and Brooke’s like the back of his hand, and he’s even been to Rich’s and Jenna’s plenty—but Michael’s is new. And like all new things, it feels a little bright and shiny and special because of that newness.

So yeah, he doesn’t mind spending time at Michael’s house, _at all_ , even if he never would’ve pictured himself in this situation last year.

But hey, there’s a lot he wouldn’t have pictured happening back when he was a sophomore.

Jake’s not gonna get into all that now. There’s too much else to do.

“So I want you to like, read this and give it some anger,” Michael says as he hands him a piece of paper formatted like a script, and Jake raises a brow.

“So I’m just here to read lines?”

“I want to know how it sounds out loud before I keep developing this character’s personality,” Michael says. “It’s—I’m taking some liberties, from what actually happened.”

Jake glances down at the paper and realizes the character is Germaine Theere, which is a really obvious play on Jeremy Heere, and he raises a brow at Michael. “ _Theere_?”

Michael actually blushes. “Don’t even start, okay, it’s a placeholder until I can think of something better.”

“Okay, Michael,” Jake says, in his best imitation of Jeremy’s voice. “I’m Germaine Theere, and I’m ready to tell the world how I almost destroyed it that one time.”

Michael punches Jake in the shoulder. It’s not hard, but it’s a reminder that Michael’s not as much of a pushover as he pegged him for. “Seriously dude, cut it out,” he says, cheeks still a little flushed. Jake remembers a little too late that he’s the first person that Michael’s actually _showed_ this to outside of Jeremy, and it kind of makes him feel like a dick for making light of it. Especially since Jeremy was so unsupportive before.

“Okay,” Jake says, smoothing down his jacket from where Michael had messed it up. “Okay. Uh… Gimme a minute, I just wanna know what I’m reading first, yeah?”

It doesn’t take long to read through it, or to give it a good voice in his head. After all, he does enough Model UN scenarios that he’s pretty good at figuring out what role he’s supposed to be playing, except he’s a lot better at playing dignified world leaders than, uh, insecure teenage boys. But he’ll give it his best shot.

“Look, I don’t care what people are going to say about me once this is over,” he reads, voice going a little higher and defensive as he aims for whatever ‘teenage insecurity’ is supposed to sound like. —Especially with the footnote ‘spoken as if being filmed for a documentary’ attached to it.

Jake’s voice lilts in a couple places mostly because it’s new and long and he’s pretty sure no one talks like this, but that’s not his business, it’s Michael’s.

So he takes a breath and continues, “I just want them to know that I didn’t mean for it to end up like this. I’m not going to pretend that I was aiming for world peace or anything, or even to help other people. I took the SQUIP because I thought it could help me be a better version of me, and because I thought my life would get better. I didn’t know it’d hurt anyone.”

Once the first few lines are spoken aloud, Jake looks up at Michael. Then, in his own voice he asks, “Like that?”

“Like that,” Michael says. He looks happy enough, even though Jake feels a little unsure of his own performance. Then, “Shit. I should’ve been filming. Do it again, uh, this time with—I don’t know, this time maybe a little more…”

He makes a vague hand gesture, which really doesn’t help Jake at all, but Jake nevertheless pipes up with, “Angstier? Defensive? Sad?”

“Defensive! Yeah. Make him sound like he’s trying to really convince people he didn’t mean for this to happen, but like, he’s not going to apologize, he just wants to rationalize it.”

Jake squints at how _specific_ those instructions were, but he doesn’t question him. Instead, he does it again, this time more from memory than the script.

—And this time, making the words flow a bit more like conversation than how stiff Germaine Theere is written on paper.

“Listen. Whatever people are gonna say about me after all this,” Jake says, looking directly into the camera for a moment, making a hand-gesture or two to show that he’s trying to clarify something, “I just want them to know that I didn’t mean for it to end up like—like _this_.” He pauses for breath, not enough for it to get awkward, but enough to show that he’s choosing his words carefully. “I’m not gonna pretend that I was aiming for like, world peace. Hell, it wasn’t even about helping anyone but myself. I—are you getting this?” he asks, despite knowing Michael is, because that’s how a candid documentary is supposed to go. To show that they want something more.

Michael nods at him anyways, and Jake takes a shuddery breath and looks away, rubbing the side of his forehead.

“I—I’ll admit it, okay? I took the SQUIP because I thought it’d help _me_. Just me.” Jake knows he’s really selling it, because he gets a glimpse of Michael’s eyes widening at his script alterations, but looking pleasantly surprised instead of pissed. Always a good sign, with creative liberties. “…I thought it could help me be a, a better version of me, and because I thought my life would stop sucking so much if I just had something there to give me a boost.” He swallows audibly, then, “I didn’t know anyone else would get hurt. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I didn’t mean it? Because I didn’t. I didn’t know it’d cause so much trouble.”

With that, Michael taps his phone again, and looks almost giddy. As he plays back the footage and Jake hears himself coming out of the tinny phone speaker, he gets the ultimate privilege of watching Michael’s face light up, clearly happy about the results he’s getting.

Once it’s over, Jake scoots over towards him, until their thighs are touching and he can see a blurry still image still on Michael’s phone, the play button hovering just under his face. “So,” he says, lightly elbowing Michael in the side. “That what you were going for?”

“ _Way_ better.”

And hey, Jake’s not exactly knocking the ego-stroking. He grins, then leans back onto his palms, quite impressed with himself. “Alright then, man, what else you got for me?”

\--

As it turns out, Michael has five full length scenes under construction, and they go back and forth play-acting the voices and roles. Guy or girl, it doesn’t matter—Michael just needs a real, solid voice and personality to match up to his writing, or else he’ll never be able to clean up the script to make it ‘officially filmable.’

Of course, Jake and Michael won’t be playing everyone for the real thing. He knows that everyone’s going to be playing themselves as long as they’re willing to go along with it and all of Michael’s ‘Hollywood-ifying’ alterations.

But the alterations tend to make people more sympathetic, more well-reasoned and well-planned than most of their real actions had been.

After all, they were all sixteen or seventeen last fall. Most of them hadn’t even gotten a driver’s license yet. A lot of them had been drunk or drugged (counting SQUIPS) for a lot of the dumb choices they’d made.

And yet, Michael had weaved it into a much more coherent storyline than it had felt when they’d all lived through it.

Jake’s heart kind of flutters once he finally gets a scene where he’s playing as himself. And then it stops for a second, to let him laugh, and he lightly whacks the script.

“Troy Bolton?” Jake asks, reading the character’s name. “Buddy, I know I play sports, but—”

“I wrote it up before I knew you’d be helping me practice, shut up,” Michael says, cheeks flushing again. But this time he doesn’t look ashamed, just a tinge embarrassed, and Jake decides he likes this look on him way better. “I’m playing ‘Kristin Chernoweth’ anyways, so it’s not like you’re the only one with a ridiculous name in this scene.”

“Just as long as you don’t give me a white boy name for the final cut,” Jake says as he looks back down at the script, starting to get a feel for the voice and tone he ought to be using, even if he’s literally playing himself. Then, when he sees the incredulous look on Michael’s face, he gets why Michael finds it so funny. “I _know_ Jake’s a white boy name, okay, shut up.”

“And yet you’re complaining about Troy Bolton?”

“Because Troy Bolton is the white guy basketball player. I'm more of a football guy anyways.”

“And his best friend’s name is Chad. Which is also a very white sounding name.”

Jake flips him off. “Chad could be short for Chadwick Boseman.”

“And _Chadwick_ gets made fun of for having a white-sounding name,” Michael says. “Seriously, I’ll give you something better, but stop complaining while it’s still a work in progress. Besides, Kristin Chernoweth is a white girl too, and Christine’s Asian, and you don’t see her complaining.”

“Christine isn’t here, dumbass.”

It’s not meant meanly, and Jake’s glad that Michael knows that, because he just laughs. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, _Jake_ , just go with it for now. Not like you’ve got a whole lot of room to complain.”

“Whatever, man. Let’s get back to reading, yeah?” Jake says. And then, because he can never not have the last word, he slyly adds, “Besides, it’s only ‘Jake,’ because my parents named me after my _white_ grandpa.”

He looks up from the script when he hears Michael snort-laugh, and just barely catches a glimpse of Michael’s expression before he smacks a hand over the dumb grin on his face.

“Laugh it up, you don’t see me making fun of you for having the literal most common name in the history of ever.” And then, because Michael still found something funny, Jake can’t quite help but say, “They named me after him because he died right before I was born.”

It’s just for the shock value of it all, and not even true, but Michael still chokes. Jake’s pretty sure he’s coughing instead of laughing now, which is kind of what he was going for, but he still feels bad.

Jake playfully elbows him, then says, “Kidding. Dude, relax. Jacob was my dad’s name, too, and I’m pretty sure my grandpa’s still alive. _Anyways_. I’m technically Jacob Dillinger the Third, so it’s not like I’m named for just my grandpa.”

“What the _fuck_ , dude, you had me going—” Michael starts, like he’s about to berate him for getting him all worked up over nothing. But then he stops, evaluates what Jake had said, and asks, “Jacob Dillinger the Third? Are you fucking with me?”

“I can show you a birth certificate, man, I’m dead serious.” At Michael’s surprised look, Jake grins and continues, knowing that he has to explain now that he’s piqued Michael’s interest. “Don’t laugh, okay? My grandpa started the tradition because he married a black woman like, right after it became legal. And, uh, his racist parents kinda cut him off, so he just wanted to make sure his son really felt like he was part of the family even if the rest of the extended family didn’t approve, so—yeah. My parents thought it was rad as fuck, and it kinda became tradition.”

Jake’s not entirely sure why he’s telling Michael this, since his full name is so stiff and ridiculous, but it’s kind of sweet and it’s a fun legacy to have leftover from his parents, even if they’re not really around now.

Plus, telling Michael the full story feels _good_ , if only because now he gets to see Michael looking at him like that. Like he just told him some adorable, Notebook-level shit.

But seeing a lovestruck look on Michael’s face makes Jake feel a couple of things that he really, really shouldn’t be feeling. Not when he’s not even out as bi, and definitely not for a guy he barely knows, and who’s already in another relationship.

So before Michael can ask him anything else, Jake clears his throat and reads the first paragraph on the piece of paper in his hand.

“Act One, scene four, Troy Bolton and Kristin Chernoweth hang behind after the first Play Rehearsal, oblivious to Germaine Theere, who’s eavesdropping as he grabs his backpack.”

Michael seems to snap out of it, and nods along. Then, in a rather sweet imitation of Christine’s voice, he asks, “Testing, testing—I love musical theater more than life itself and also feminism. How do I sound?”

“Creepily perfect.”

“Not creepy, just _talent_.”

Jake rolls his eyes, then glances down and almost dies when he realizes just what this scene is supposed to be depicting. Then, he slowly, shyly reads, “Hey, so uh, you were—you were in that play last year, right?”

“You mean, Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yeah! You, um, you were the girl that died!”

“You mean Juliet?”

“Yeah!” Jake still remembers how underprepared he’d been, actually talking with her. And hey, believe it or not, just because he liked to party and had an easy time with girls who already _wanted_ him, didn’t mean that he had an easy time with just anyone. “ _Man_ , that was depressing.”

Michael has to smother a grin for a second, before he clears his throat and gets back into character, despite having no line here.

“But you, you were good,” Jake continues, remembering just how many butterflies had been in his stomach. The script says to make it suave, but Jake knows that that’s not right. He’d been a million times too nervous for ‘suave’ to have anything to do with it. So instead, he lets some of that nervousness bleed into his voice. “…I’m Jake.”

“I know.”

And he remembers how dumb he’d felt, hearing that. And he remembers how dumb he’d felt for dropping archery just to join a different club he wasn’t even sure if he’d like, just to see if he could get to know Christine Canigula.

Michael’s voice doesn’t sound quite uncertain enough, but that’s fine by him. It’s always awkward when people aren’t sure how to deal with him just because he’s _The_ Jake Dillinger

“Cool.” He clears his throat, looks away, and rubs the back of his neck, not too far off from what he’d done in the moment, even if he feels kind of douchey doing it for show. Purposefully looking vulnerable to impress a girl is definitely one of his tricks, but it had been pretty damn genuine at the time. “Uh, right. So, um. …Can I say something stupid?”

Michael opens his mouth to say something, but Jake doesn’t even let him say a word before he hurries on, quick and uncertain, using his memory more than the script at this point—which is helpful, because Michael keeps glancing at the script like Jake’s getting it wrong, even though this is as close as it gets.

“When you died in the play,” Jake hurries on, “That was the saddest I’d felt in a really long time. It was like, everything in my life—all the, all the pressure I feel, to be the _best_ , at _everything, all the time_ —It just suddenly felt so… small. And then, when you got up again at the end?” Jake’s face feels warm just remembering it, not only how he’d felt at Romeo and Juliet, but also how embarrassing it had been to overshare to this girl he liked. “To do your, uh, victory dance—?”

And yes, he did the over-the-top arm motions for this moment, too.

“Bow. It’s, uh, called a bow.”

And yeah, even as _Michael_ says it, Jake still feels just as hot-faced and dumb as he had back then. “Yeah, um, yeah—that’s, whatever. Well, uh, I remember thinking, ‘I’m glad that girl’s not… dead. Before I got the chance to know her.’”

And there’s a beat, where he sees something flicker in Michael’s eyes.

“See, like—agh, that’s stupid, sorry,” Jake continues on. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No! It’s—that’s not, it’s not stupid. You’re not stupid.”

And Christine hadn’t added that last part, and Michael isn’t using her voice anymore either. And Jake isn’t quite sure what to do with that, hearing the phrase, ‘you’re not stupid’ from Michael, and it gives him a paradoxically dumb fluttery feeling in his stomach.

But if Michael’s thrown off guard enough that he isn’t using her voice anymore, Jake knows that the script has been sufficiently thrown out the window. Probably because Jake knows he’s adding more accurate lines than Michael could possibly have written, given that the only people there that day were Christine and Jeremy, and Jeremy probably hadn’t given a great narrative of what had gone down.

Jake’s not entirely sure he wants to read the script, if it was solely from Jeremy’s perspective. He knew how Jeremy saw him back then. He’s pretty sure he must’ve come off as a dumb, popular jock just pulling the moves on sweet, innocent Christine. 

So yeah, Jake doesn’t even bother reading what else might’ve been written, instead just swallowing down the memories of nervousness. “So, uh, okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. A bunch of us were planning on going to the mall after this, y’know. If you wanna come.”

And then, he does the most ridiculous thing he can think of, and reaches for Michael’s hand, taking it and covering it with both of his own with a light pat.

Michael looks just as confused as Christine had, and Jake’s not sure if it’s good acting or if he really didn’t know anything about this, but Jake almost stutters over his next line, probably worse than he’d said it the first time around.

“Well. ‘Parting is—uh, is such sweet…’”

And when Michael realizes he’s intentionally not saying the last word, he cracks a tiny grin and says, finally back in Christine’s voice, “Sorrow?”

Jake smiles like he had in that moment, just glad that she’d filled him in. “Whatever,” he says, not too bothered. Then, for his exiting line, “See you later!”

And now that it’s over, and Michael knows just how he’d _actually_ asked Christine out, Jake puts the script over his face and leans back until he’s fully horizontal on Michael’s bed.

“Okay, I take it you want to write your own lines from now on?” Michael asks, and Jake can hear the grin in his voice. “I made you sound way more suave, y’know. Just in case you wanna write out your shame in the official one. Because _holy fuck_ , Jake.”

“I _know_.”

“You were such a dork, holy shit. Forget me and Jeremy, how have _you_ ever had a girlfriend?”

“Shut up.”

Jake feels the bed moving, knows that Michael is coming closer. He reflexively holds the script tighter, if just to keep Michael from looking at his face. It’s not like he’s visibly blushing, but his face feels hot anyways, and the last thing he wants is for Michael to look at him in all his dorky junior year, pre-Halloween glory.

Michael wrestles the script away anyways, laughing as he stacks it with his own. “I’m serious, Jeremy made it seem like you’d seduced her.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Jake says as he looks up at him, not quite sitting up. “Totally not my fault. She’s cute and she made me feel stuff that I didn’t mean to feel, and she’s not my usual type so like—it shouldn’t have been such a big deal but it was.”

Michael tsks, then asks, “Why is it that everyone I know has such a thing for Christine?”

“Because she’s adorable and passionate about everything she likes?”

“I’m adorable and passionate about everything I like.”

“And now Jeremy’s dating you,” Jake says, reaching a hand up as if to say, ‘so there.’

It makes Michael laugh, just a little—and that makes it worth it to Jake. “So I’m just the boy version of his type, huh?”

“Maybe? I dunno.” It’s not something Jake’s bothered to consider, but he guesses it makes sense. Without meaning to, he pipes up with, “Sometimes bi people like the exact same type of person in either gender, sometimes they like guys a certain way and girls a certain way. Just depends. Like, when you like a girl sometimes it’s hot when she’s super in-charge but like, sometimes it’s cool when guys are like, really sweet. Or some people just like people who’re loud and demanding, or they only like sweet people, and it doesn’t matter what gender they are.”

Michael nods like he gets it, and Jake sits up until he’s propped up on one elbow but still mostly lying down. And yet, somehow, when Michael speaks next, he still feels like his feet have been knocked out from under him. “So you know a lot about bi people then?”

Jake blinks at him, then is aware all too late that he can’t even blame Rich for his knowledge, since most people know they haven’t been close since Halloween. And now, St. Patrick’s Day is in like, a week.

“Uh.”

 “So?”

“I, this girl I—Madeline’s bi,” he says, as the first accurate statement to come to mind that most people already knew about, so he wouldn’t be outing anyone. “She mentioned it one time, when we hooked up.”

Michael looks like he doesn’t fully understand why a random hook-up would go into detail about the life and times of bi people, but he doesn’t question it because there’s literally no reason to. It’s a hypothetical and it answers his questions and it doesn’t need to become a whole _thing_ , so Michael doesn’t make it one. And damn, is Jake grateful for that.

“Makes sense. But like, at this point, who _isn’t_ bi,” Michael says. “Old people are calling us the gayest generation and like, I dunno if they’re wrong.”

“I guess, dude. I just don’t think it matters that much,” Jake says, and he knows it sounds douchey, to shut him down before he’s talked much, but talking about sexuality with a boy that’s giving him butterflies in his stomach is too dangerous. “So uh, hey, are we doing any more scenes? It’s already six, and I should probably get dinner at some point tonight.”

“Oh! Oh, shit, right,” Michael says. And he looks flustered in a less cute way than before, which makes Jake feel guilty as hell, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. “There’s food upstairs if you wanna stick around, but if you were, um, hoping for a way to leave inconspicuously, that’s cool too.”

“I’m not saying it because I want to leave,” Jake says, and he’s surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m just really hungry.”

And yeah, it’s suspicious to suddenly want to eat when the topic had just changed to same-sex relationships, and Jake knows that he’s probably setting off Michael’s homophobe-alert, the same way that Jake feels shady right now. But he can’t let them talk about this, or he’ll say more than he’s ready to. And doesn’t want this conversation to be with Michael before they even know each other.

Jake’s pretty sure he’d rather tell Christine before anyone, which is a weird thing to want, but she’s _safe_. Brooke is too close, and Rich is complicated, and Chloe would probably try to use it to flirt with him, and Jenna would tell literally everyone.

So. Christine.

Maybe.

Definitely not Michael, whoever Jake tells—if he tells _anyone_ before college.

And Michael’s been quiet for a beat too long, and Jake almost winces when he finally speaks up again. “Up to you if you wanna stay over or go, man. I’ve got food here, but my mom’s not gonna be home till late, and I’m not much of a cook.”

And that—that’s something Jake can latch onto. “Mom? Not parents?”

Michael shrugs a shoulder. “Single and works late. Anyways. You staying or—”

Before he can finish what he’s saying, there’s a vibrating sound, and Michael pats at his pockets until he finds his phone. Jake can see a picture of Jeremy’s face, and a caller ID of ‘Player 2’ which is adorable as fuck. But Michael hesitates a second before answering, muttering a quick, “Shit, sorry,” under his breath.

Like all phone-calls that happen when there’s someone else in the room, Jake feels kind of awkward, and he’s not sure if he should leave or stay or what, but Michael doesn’t tell him to leave the room, so he just sits next to him as Michael answers the phone.

He’s not sure if it’s fortunately or unfortunately, but Jake can only hear Michael’s side of the call.

“Hey—yeah, sorry, I totally forgot to call earlier. No, yeah, I’ll read your texts as soon as I hang up.” A pause, and Michael sighed before going to check through his messages right then anyways, wincing just a little. “Okay, yeah. No, two is fine? We’re not gonna wake up until twelve anyways.”

There’s a long pause, and Michael goes through a lot of different facial expressions, which Jake pretends very hard he’s not watching—at least until Michael notices and sticks his tongue out at him.

Then, “No—yeah! I’m paying attention. Sorry, just—Jake’s here, and—huh? No, it’s, chill. We’re just hanging out and working on my screenplay.”

Whatever Jeremy says next, it’s probably not good, because Michael gets an expression on his face somewhere between hurt and bitter, even if his tone sounds almost sickly-sweet. Then again, maybe that’s the point. “Oh, no, trust me, babe. You made your stance pretty clear. That’s why I’m not bugging you about it anymore. I’m just working on it with _Jake_.” The ‘and not you’ is almost audible. “Yeah, we’re probably gonna keep working on it ‘til it’s done—no, not all _today_ , these things take literal weeks.”

Jake, starting to feel a little more awkward he feels at most overheard phone-calls, looks away. But then Michael taps him on the knee and says, “Jake, you down for same time next week?”

And, baffled, Jake says “Yeah?”—much the same way he had in the car. But also because of course he would, he’s got nothing better to do, and it’s been fun playing like six different people as Michael edits the hell out of his rough draft.

“He says yes,” Michael says, and Jake swallows thickly at the knowledge that he’s being used for an argument. But then again, he doesn’t fully blame Michael.

Whatever’s going on between Michael and Jeremy doesn’t sound ideal, but Jake’s having fun and Michael’s been working hard on this. It’d feel wrong for him to back out now.

The pair talk for a few minutes more, and Jake purposefully tunes out. He hears a “Love you, okay? I’ll see you in twenty,” before he finally starts to listen again. And hey, Jake’s not dumb. He knows what that means, as far as his own role is concerned. The only thing he’s confused about is why he feels like he’s someone’s side-chick, when whatever he and Michael have is as platonic as it gets.

“Should I leave?”

Michael looks conflicted, but finally nods. “Jeremy’s coming over,” he says. “I guess you’re heading home for dinner either way, huh? Sorry, I didn’t know it was gonna be like this.”

“No worries. I’ll see you next week, though.” At the conflicted look in Michael’s eyes, he adds, “No, seriously, I mean it.”

And though it’s kind of small and easy to miss, he sees Michael light up just a little. “I’ll see you Saturday, then,” he says. “Or—I mean, obviously I’ll see you at school first. But. Yeah. You get what I mean.”

Jake laughs and stands up, playfully knocking his fist against the front of Michael’s shoulder. “See you Monday,” he says as Michael walks with him to the front door, where Jake’s got all his stuff parked. 

They both linger in the doorway for a few moments longer than necessary, and it’s way too obvious to Jake that neither of them really wants him to leave. But he still has to, so he does, and that’s the end of that.

But, it’s not the end of their visits.

\--

After the next Saturday, it becomes a Thing.

A ‘Thing’ meaning that it’s not just once a week, anymore. Now it’s more of a ‘Model UN got cancelled super last minute ‘cause the Ms. Avonchie is sick, you wanna work on Jenna’s scene today?’ text after school, or a panicked phone call of ‘I accidentally deleted the recording for when you were testing out voices for the SQUIP and now I have no idea what to write, can you please please please come over and retake the shot?’

So yeah, it’s a whole Thing.

Jake doesn’t mind, and it beats only focusing on homework and extra credit and college applications. There’s been a lot of that, now that his guidance counselor wants to make sure he’s on the right track. Hell, considering all the extra-curriculars he’s had, it shouldn’t be an issue, but it still feels like one after losing the scholarships he was really hoping for.

Working on Michael’s screenplay is probably the most welcome, productive distraction he has right now. And he doesn’t intend to lose it.

But funnily enough, Jake doesn’t notice when it turns from just working on the screenplay, to hanging out for other reasons.

He barely notices when he starts inviting Michael to the movies or to the mall even before Brooke. And when they slip up and use an in-joke or two over lunch, Jake doesn’t even register the funny looks they get.

Or, he doesn’t notice enough to feel obligated to do something about it. Even when Jake calls something too stuffy and Michael replies, “Okay, Jacob Dillinger the Third, _you’re_ one to talk,” Jake’s more concerned about how he might bust a gut laughing than what anyone else might think.

Still, Jenna and Brooke give each other looks, but Jake doesn’t know what that look means in girl world. He knows that Jeremy looks weirdly pissed and so does Rich (of all people), but Jake is kind of above caring what other people think of his friendships.

Besides, he already knows that this happened way too quickly for other people to get used to it, but they have _chemistry_. Friendship chemistry.

Michael’s weird, but it’s not a bad weird. It’s the weird that lets him make jokes and embarrass himself without ever actually feeling bad about it. And maybe there’s the occasional fluttery feeling in his stomach, and Jake’s not used to suppressing that feeling as much as he is lately. But he’ll gladly put up with that if it means he can get close to someone who has no standards for how _The_ Jake Dillinger should act.

It means that Jake can be himself, and that that ‘self’ doesn’t have to be scarily consistent. Much as Jake’s adaptable and easy-going no matter the situation, he likes not having to separate Model UN Jake from Jock Jake from cheesy Jake from moody Jake. Most of all, it means Jake can be a little dorky and a lot more honest, and vulnerable in all the ways that matter in friendship.

And Jake fucking loves it.

So yeah, no, he’s not going to freak out about the looks he and Michael get. And he’s not going to beat himself up about what it might be making other people feel now that he’s bonding with someone unexpected. Jake didn’t give a shit about what his friends thought when he liked Christine—he’s not gonna care now that he wants to be weirdly close with Michael.

And yeah, if he can admit it to himself, it’s a crush. He likes Michael exactly how he’d liked Christine.

But he’s not a cheater, and he doesn’t encourage other people to cheat. Maybe his rebound times between relationships have been _remarkably_ short in the past, and he’d hooked up with Chloe less than five minutes after Christine dumped him, but he still didn’t _cheat_.

So, yeah. He’s not going to beat down Jeremy’s confidence like that, or try to get Michael to do something shady. Jake’s happy just existing for now, being friends. That’s enough.


	4. then you can go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed that I'm not totally mucking up Jake. I have no idea if Britton Smith plays him differently or not. Ah, well. It can just be au if he's vastly different or lines got changed from the original Two River Theater.

It doesn’t take long for a new normal to set in, with Michael coming to Jake’s house on the regular, or Jake doing the same at Michael’s.

There are still friends that aren’t particularly happy about it, but a pattern is definitely cropping up about the ones that are still, even weeks after it became a Thing, fixated on the strange new friendship blossoming between Jake and Michael. The ones still harping on it tend to be the ones that might have been spending those extra hours with Jake or Michael themselves.

In other words, it’s mostly Jeremy and Chloe, and occasionally Rich.

Nothing obvious or mean, of course. They don’t do more than purse their lips or look uncomfortable at the in-jokes. And sure, the in-jokes might be a _bit_ exclusionary at times, since there’s a lot of ‘you had to be there’ associated with Jake’s full name or that time Michael laughed so hard he shot expired Crystal Pepsi through his nose—but it isn’t any different than the jokes Rich and Jake used to have with each other, or the over-the-top, romantic, couple-y moments that Michael and Jeremy had when they first started dating.

Even the outright _jealousy_ from Jeremy and Chloe isn’t that noticeable. It’s little more than a glint in their eyes, a little extra possessiveness when Michael and Jake get a little too friendly. Like when Jake laughs and musses Michael’s hair after a lame joke, or when Michael wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulders to ‘shield’ him from Jenna asking him about the latest gossip concerning _The_ Jake Dillinger.  Even in those moments, the worst Jeremy or Chloe do is ask “So _that’s_ what you were doing last week when you said you were ‘busy’, huh?”

It was clear they’re trying to sound good-natured and teasing, but Jake understands people well enough to know that if they _weren’t_ actually bothered, they probably wouldn’t have teased at all, and just left things be. Y’know, like everyone else in the squad does.

Because that’s the thing of it, really. No one else has a problem with it.

Which means, in turn, that Jake finds himself pulling more towards people who don’t care about changing status quos. Like Brooke, and Jenna, and Christine, which means that he’s got a grand total of _one_ close guy friend in a sea of girls. It makes sense, really, since he and Rich haven’t been close in months, and getting closer to Jeremy seems sort of impossible with how much Jeremy dislikes him monopolizing Michael’s time.

Which he _isn’t_ doing, by the way.

It’s hardly monopolizing if Michael wants it just as much as he does. So there.

But even if they’re not close, they are still friends. Everyone. It’s just that things are a little more strained now that it’s not _immediately_ following the SQUIPcident. Having an instant wifi-brain-connection between each other was short-lived, and as connected as they’d felt after sharing similar traumatic experiences, that connection alone isn’t enough for deep friendships.

Besides, really being _vulnerable_ is something that has to be chosen, not just briefly understood because a few wifi-linked, bright-and-shiny-hive-minds connected for a second.

Just because Jake knows they know how much pain his SQUIP cured him of, and how it was planning on getting him self-sufficient even without his parents, and finding a way to get back his scholarships and perfect-persona, doesn’t mean that anyone’s really acknowledged it past that.

Just like Jake hasn’t really talked to Jenna about how she feels left out, or how Brooke and Chloe let jealousy and insecurity seep into their friendship far too often even after they know that deep down, they care deeply about each other.

Sometimes Jake wants to step in and make it his business to fix everyone’s problems, but a bigger part of him knows that it’s not really his business.

It’s not wrong _not_ to directly talk about these things, anyways. He hasn’t gone to any of them with his issues, and they haven’t come to him with any of theirs.  

…Besides, even with the possibility of people knowing the shit he’s been through, he’s pretty sure he’d be happier if he had a friend who’d rather ask him himself.

Better yet, someone who didn’t have that insti-connection in the first place, so there wouldn’t be that awkward pause of ‘should I ask?’ if either of them veered into risky territory.

And maybe it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t really ask anyways, and who’d rather just change the subject if Jake looks uncomfortable about an off-the-cuff mention of parents.

And doesn’t know what comes first, thinking these things are important and good because it’s what Michael does, or if he’s gotten closer to Michael because Michael’s done all this. All Jake knows is that it feels good and he likes how his friend handles tricky subjects.

And hell, maybe he’s just just overthinking all of this. After all, he never used to think about feelings this much, but now not only does he spend a lot of extra time with Michael, he also spends way more time with Jenna and Brooke and Christine.

According to Christine, gender is fake because it’s learned, and there’s nothing automatically different in baby girls and baby boys, and Jake’s pretty sure she’s right, but—

Well.

Even if gender’s kind of fake, there’s nothing more different in the world than going from having almost exclusively guy friends, to having almost exclusively girl friends.

Before the SQUIP, Jake mostly just dated girls. Now he hangs out with them, goes on coffee and fro-yo dates and trips to the mall that aren’t exclusively dedicated to tennis shoe shopping, Sbarro’s, and GameStop. Now he lets them give him fashion advice and he has to admit, it’s kind of fun.

It’s hard to believe that he used to think that that girl stuff was lame or boring and all the same. Because, if he’s being honest, he’s had a hell of a lot more variety in things to do with girls, than with guys who just wanted to eat, play sports, talk about girls, and watch TV—occasionally adding beer to the mix.

It feels dumb to acknowledge it, but spending time with chicks is calmer, and a hell of a lot sweeter. There’s less bravado, less playfighting, and way fewer insults that everyone supposed to find funny.

And hey, even if he doesn’t really _want_ to acknowledge feelings, it still that gives him the opportunity, knowing that he’s not gonna be judged. Seriously—he’s literally seen Jenna cry over a pair of shoes, and seen Christine and Brooke walk her to the bathroom, comfort her, and walk out with her laughing and sporting a fresh set of makeup.

It’s crazy.

But it’s great. Jake’s pretty sure he’s never been around this much emotion in his life, and it’s so, so tempting to open up and join in.

Which is _ridiculous_.

Because not only is he naturally bad at it, but after the fire, the last thing he needs is to be known as emotional. The only reason he’s still as popular as he is, is because he’s been crazy strong through that whole mess. He’s not sure he can throw that all away just to join in on his girl friends’ emotions, even just in private. Because breaking down in private would likely snowball until he was allowing himself to break down in public and throw away all the respect other Middleboroughians had for him.  

As a side note, hanging out with the girls also means that his skin care regime, fashion-sense, gossip knowledge, and musical and ‘girly media’ trivia has never been better.

Not to stereotype, but even though all of these girls have very different passions and interests, they’re definitely still feminine in their own ways. And Jake is comfortable admitting that, comfortable taking part in it.

Maybe sophomore year Jake wouldn’t have been okay with it, but things are different now. _He’s_ different now.

Which means that Jake has no reservations about hanging out with Brooke on a Saturday, a few hours before Michael was supposed to come over. It’s not anything extravagant, just brunch and a feel-good movie and a face-mask.

But it still means a lot to him.

So when The Greatest Showman ends and Brooke is humming along to the end credits, Jake cracks a smile that in-turn cracks his face-mask, and he nudges her shoulder.

“My face feels like it’s covered in _rocks_ , can we take this thing off yet?” he asks, poking a finger into the too-tough mixture.

And her face would probably be red any other time, given how easy it is to make her blush. But fortunately for her, the bright blue face mask hides the physical embarrassment of forgetting. “We probably could’ve taken it off half an hour ago,” she admits. “I’ve worn this like a million times so my face is kind of used to it by now. Sorry, Jake.”

“Me and my sensitive skin will probably live,” Jake says, standing to his feet and rubbing his cheeks, feeling the tug on the skin under his eyes. “Or not, damn. You’re sure this isn’t gonna take off my skin with it?”

“Positive.” Brooke follows him towards the bathroom, smothering a laugh. “I mean, it kind of will, but only because it’s supposed to help clear away dead skin. Like, it’s an exfoliating scrub, which is super good for you every couple of weeks.”

Considering this is Jake’s first one in, say, seventeen and a half years, he’s a little nervous of just how _much_ skin might come off. But when he washes the scrub off with warm water, he doesn’t notice anything specific coming off. No big chunks of skin like he’d feared; just blue face-mask and maybe a few translucent flecks of skin. Nothing more than what might come off if he peeled off the aftermath of a very, very mild sunburn. More concerning is that his face is the tiniest bit red-tinged, and conspicuously tight.

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” he asks, continuing to rub warm water into his skin after the blue is gone, angling his face this way and that. “Or did I do something wrong?”

“If it feels tight, I’ve got some good face-lotion,” Brooke says, absolutely lighting up at the idea, and for the first time that day, Jake starts to wonder if giving her permission to give him a ‘quality skin-care spa day’ was the best idea.

But hell, he’s already this far in, and Brooke’s the only girl he knows that has skin so clear, so he bites his tongue and allows it. “Nothing that smells super strong,” he says. “Michael’s coming over later and like, the fewer the questions about why my face smells delicious, the better.”

Brooke’s smile turns a little more knowing as she digs in her make-up bag for a face lotion. “ _Michael_ , huh? Hot date Saturday?”

“Saturdays are like, _our_ days,” Jake says. He finally gives up the ghost on rubbing water into his skin, instead just patting it down and giving into the too-tight feeling. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh, just that you don’t need to worry about him being weird about how your face smells. We do makeovers plenty, though I think he just wanted to see if he could feed into the stereotypes about gay guys loving makeovers,” she says, then passes him the face-lotion. “Not that he’d be that close to your face in the first place. Two pumps, by the way. If you have extra just put it on your neck.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk into a smile even as he squirts the face-lotion into his palm and starts to rub it into his skin with two fingers. “Not sure if you forgot, but he’s dating the _other_ guy with a J-name in our group. Easy mistake, I know—we look _so_ similar.”

Brooke lightly nudges his side. “I just mean you guys spend a lot of time together. Like, a lot a lot.”

“Yeah. That’s what friends do. Spend time together.”

“All I’m saying,” she says, looking earnest but maybe a little too assuming, “Is that he’s gay, and I’ve been to enough of your house parties to know what happened in certain back rooms when you weren’t dating Chloe.”

Jake’s stomach drops. He tries to play it off, but his throat feels tight all of a sudden, in a very different way than the tight skin of his face.

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it stays put, telling him that it’ll choke him if he tries to talk before he gets himself under control. So he finishes putting on the face lotion, ignoring the way his hands shake.

“Jake?” Brooke asks, because she’s perceptive like that. “Sorry. That—I shouldn’t have said it like that. But it’s okay, you know? No one’s going to hold it against you.”

“Hold _what_?” he asks, voice maybe a little sharp, but it’s better that than cracking mid-way through his sentence. “So I’ve been with a couple of guys, that doesn’t mean I’m—”

“You can be bi, you know. Plenty of people are.”

“I know what bisexuality is, Brooke, Rich talks about it every other day.” He takes a deep breath, then pushes it out a little too hard through his nose, frustration coming out with it. After a moment, he leans forward, bracing his palms against the counter and avoiding looking at his own reflection. “I don’t feel like telling anyone else right now. Especially with how Jeremy already looks at me, like I’m…”

Brooke’s face softens, and he feels her hand move to rest on top of his. “Like you’re trying to steal his boyfriend?”

Jake laughs, expression the tiniest bit bitter. “Yeah. Like that.”

“You’re not that type of guy,” she says. “I know you. I mean, I know it’s a long time ago now, but freshman year, we…”

Jake’s mouth quirks into a tiny smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry about how all that went down, B. I should’ve… Well, I mean, I don’t really want to take responsibility for it, but maybe there was more I could’ve done.”

Brooke shakes her head, then gives his hand a quick squeeze. “You know Chloe. She always gets what she wants.” Her expression turns a little sour for just a moment, but she corrects it by pulling away from him and reaching into her make-up bag, reapplying lip-gloss as if to physically erase her frown. Then, when she finishes, she puckers her lips and says, “At least you had the decency to break up with me before you went for her.”

“It had to have hurt though, you know?” Jake wipes the extra lotion on his neck, then lightly wipes the backs of his hands against his neck, just to see if it could do anything for the noticeable dry-cracks on his knuckles. “So, I’m sorry for how it turned out.”

“It was years ago. And from the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one.”

That part is added a little too meaningfully for Jake to just ignore it, so he forces an awkward laugh. “I didn’t cheat on Christine, either. She broke up with me because she thought I thought she was just Juliet, not, you know, Christine. I don’t think I was doing that, but… I mean, I’m not mad.” Anyone could break up with anyone over anything, a fact that Jake had used to his advantage more than once. Sometimes it was hard to just come right out and say he wasn’t happy, or that he thought he was being used. So he couldn’t hold it against anyone else if they broke up for a weird reason. “It’s just, sometimes I kind of wonder if maybe Chloe sabotaged that. Made her think that… I dunno. That I didn’t want her.”

Brooke’s expression shifts, and she tilts her head a little to the side. “I could see it.”

“Yeah.” Jake sighs though his nose again, then shakes his head. “I don’t want to just turn this into like, us ripping on Chloe, y’now? She’s—she’s a lot, but she’s still our friend.”

“My friend, your ex—and also the reason you’re _my_ ex.” Brooke purses her lips, then grudgingly adds, “But okay, yes. My friend. My _best_ friend. Even if she’s…”

“She’s very… _herself_.”

“Everyone’s themself, Jake.”

She has a point in her own way, but Jake finds himself thinking about Michael, and how he’d never met anyone so loudly themself before. So unapologetically focused on the things he liked and the people he cares about, never once compromising his personality or tastes.

And fuck, why does that knowledge make Jake so _happy_?

“Some people are more themselves than others,” he says, mouth quirking up into a hint of a smile. “I dunno about you, but I change with whoever I’m talking to.”

Brooke tilts her head to the side, as if getting a good look at Jake for the first time. “Y’know, I wanted to argue that, but now that I’m thinking about it, I kinda see it,” she finally says. “You’re different when you’re with sports teams. More… _serious_ when you’re with that debate club.”

“Model UN,” he corrects. “But yeah.”

“And…” she hesitates just a little. “If you’re on sports teams with more black guys on it, you’re different, too.”

As opposed to the frisbee golf team and archery, Jake doesn’t say, because let’s face it, there’s a bit of a _demographical_ difference there.

He’s not sure if there are many black people left on those teams, now that he’s been benched ‘til senior year.

“It’s not like, a bad difference,” Brooke adds quickly, voice a little higher, more reassuring, because of course she does—Jake would know the Overcompensating for Any Mention of Race tone anywhere. “Just, you know, different.”

“More black?”

“Well, maybe a little?”

And it’s not really a big thing, and he knows it’s not, because he’s heard much worse from people he’s not close to. Put up with a lot more, even, at Model UN tournaments where the scorekeepers seem surprised to hear him speak up, or where they complement him on how _articulate_ he is.

But it still makes him feel that tiny seed of regret, of having so many white friends who just don’t quite get it _personally_ , even if they get it conceptually.

When Brooke says blacker, she probably means dumbed down, more casual, ‘cooler’, more masculine. Something that tries to put blackness in a particular category.

When in all reality, if he _is_ any of those things when he’s with a primarily black group of friends, the main difference is there’s suddenly much less pressure to be perfect when he won’t be representing his entire race to white people.

The pressure to perform well in sports is because of scholarships, but the pressure to perform well in Model UN is because even people who’ve been in that club with him for years are sometimes surprised when he does a good job, or attribute his good debate points to someone else.

Part of him feels like he ought to be grateful that he doesn’t have white friends who’ve asked permission to use the n-word.

But he doesn’t want to set the bar that low.

Maybe he would’ve, freshman year. Even sophomore year. But after the house fire, and after his legs, and learning the truth about his friendship with Rich…

The pressure is almost too much to handle, and if he lets things slide, then he knows he’s going to regret it, because it’ll blow up in his face.

And if there’s anything that spending time with Michael and having so many lady friends has shown him, it’s that he shouldn’t _have_ to set the bar low in his friendships. _Settling_ when he could have more is something Jake Dillinger shouldn’t have to do, ever. And if he doesn’t do it in sports or academic clubs or with schoolwork, like hell should he have to do it with friends.

And hell, maybe he’s got this wrong and he’s still got a lot to learn about what he should tolerate and what he shouldn’t, but it feels awful good to find his voice again and speak up.

“I’m always black, Brooke,” he says to soften the blow a little, make her less defensive before he gets into it. “It’s just that if I’m with a bunch of white people, they’re not always gonna get what I mean unless I say it like I’m one of them.” He pauses, then a little more seriously, “White people get like, legitimately freaked out when they see black people where they think they shouldn’t be. Or if they get a reminder that someone’s black when they’ve been pretending to be totally color blind for months to avoid talking about race.” He realizes he might sound bitter, and though it’s still true, he chooses not to get further into it. “…So if I have to act ‘less black’ it’s not like, that big of a deal I guess, since everyone has to act a little different depending on who they’re with, but… I dunno. It’d sure be nice not to have to act like something I’m not around my friends.”

And Brooke goes kind of quiet, which makes Jake wonder if he should’ve said anything at all.

But then she nods, slow and a little unsure. “You shouldn’t have to,” she agrees. “I didn’t realize you were, I’m so sorry, Jake.”

But Jake laughs it off for now, deciding that an apology and the knowledge that she’ll be thinking about that part of him from now on… that’s probably enough for him. Much as he feels better about telling his friends things now, he still doesn’t want to make it a whole _thing_.

So his and Brooke’s conversation eventually gets back to more light-hearted things, and Jake’s left feeling like sharing vulnerabilities isn’t as scary as he thought it might be.

\--

That lack of fear carries over to Michael.

“I legiterally can’t wait until we graduate,” Michael says, lying down on Jake’s couch and tossing a tennis ball up and down, it landing perfectly in his palm most of the time.

For someone that claims to have the hand-eye coordination of a blind quadriplegic (Michael’s words, not Jake’s), he’s not as bad at it as he claims to be. The only evidence against him is that that it’s dropped onto his face at least five times already.

Jake, for his part, sits on the other side of the couch, legs spread out since pulling his knees up still hurts if he does it for more than two minutes at a time. He lets out a hum of agreement, then pulls the cherry popsicle out of his mouth for a second. “I know I’m like, _good_ at high school, but I want out, too.”

“What, not hoping that high school will be the peak of your existence?”

Jake rolls his eyes and gestures dramatically to his legs, to the few burn scars on display now that he’s wearing a very rare pair of cargo shorts. “If this is my peak, then damn, I don’t want to see my fuckin’ low point.”

Michael gives a huff of a laugh. “Yeah, alright, fair enough. But you _know_ Middleborough’s basically been your playground since you got here as a Freshman, bro.”

It’s kind of hard to argue since Jake knows it’s true. Having that kind of power, feeling like he was king of the school for the first two years and a few months of Junior year… He misses it, sometimes. He likes his new friends, sure— _really_ likes Michael, and Jenna, and Christine, and Brooke. But things were definitely easier when he was at the top with no questions asked.

And yet…

“Maybe it was my playground for a while, yeah, but I kinda like _me_ better now that it’s not.” He pauses, considers what that means, and sucks on the popsicle for a few seconds as he considers it a little deeper. “I mean, it still could be my playground, I guess. I’ll be getting back into sports once Senior year starts. But I don’t think I could go back to ignoring dorks like you.”

“Wow, should I be thanking you?” Michael asks, faux starry-eyed. Then he flips him off in the midst of catching the next tennis ball drop. Jake matches it with a bird of his own before he lightly nudges his heel against Michael’s hip.

“Okay, okay, that sounds bad. But I’m serious,” Jake says. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t notice before—or like, chose not to notice since I figured it wasn’t my problem.”

“Like Rich being a general douchebag?”

“Like Rich being a general douchebag,” Jake repeats. “I dunno. It kind of started with Christine. She was super fuckin’ passionate about theater, and everyone knows it, and she’s got no regrets about people knowing it. Not to mention, like…”

“She made you feel sad during Romeo and Juliet, and for some reason that turned you on.”

Jake digs his heel a little harder against Michael’s hip. “Fuck off.”

Michael just laughs. “Okay, okay. I get it, though. Sometimes when someone makes you feel something strong, even if it’s bad, you, like… Want to resolve that feeling, or something. Help that person, make ‘em less sad, whatever. It’s a bonding thing.”

It takes a second, but Jake realizes that maybe what he felt for Christine was more similar to _that_ than a crush. There was definitely a crush, too, yeah—he liked how passionate she was, and how she wasn’t afraid to tell anyone exactly what she thought, and how she wasn’t afraid of seeming different just because she was fixated on something most found odd.

But the initial feelings—that was him being scared of being too late to save ‘Juliet’. Him feeling empathetic and wanting to make someone feel better, wanting to be the reason for that adorable little victory dance at the end.

He takes a bite of his popsicle and finishes it off before tossing the red-stained stick over towards the trashcan. It makes it, but barely, and Jake can’t help but smirk a little at how much of his coordination he’s been able to keep.

Meanwhile, the tennis ball is still bouncing in Michael’s hand, before it lands on his face for the sixth time.

“Toss it here,” Jake says, and grins when Michael makes an annoyed face before doing just as he’s told. Jake lightly tosses it back and forth in his own palm, weighing the options of saying much more about Christine or why he’d felt so strongly for her. Then, still feeling a little brave from his conversation with Brooke, he lets out a slow breath and takes that chance. “I guess I figured that like… out of all the sad shit in the world, if I knew how something was going to end, then I could fix it before it got bad. Maybe I got her a little mixed up with Juliet, but like… I dunno. I figured if I could make her happy, then things would work out for her better than they did in the play.”

Michael sits up a little, elbows propping him up on the armrest behind him. “So you dated her to fix her?”

“Nah, there was nothing _wrong_ with Christine,” Jake tries to explain. “I just… Ugh. I don’t know. It was right around when my, um.” He bites the inside of his cheek, face feeling warm just thinking about telling someone this. “Sort of when my parents went on a long, uh, business trip. I guess I figured, maybe this was something that I could make good, you know? Can’t fix other things, but damn, maybe it’d be nice to give someone else something better.”

The expression in Michael’s face shifts to something Jake doesn’t quite understand. All he knows is that Michael is looking at him with this intense look in his eyes, like maybe he’s trying to figure him out, or seeing something that he didn’t see before.

Jake’s not sure he likes this look, so he looks away and focuses on the tennis ball in his hand.

“I’d never date anyone if I just wanted to fix them,” Jake finally says, sounding more sure of himself than before. “I want to get better, myself. And I want them to be with me when I do, but I don’t want anyone fixing _me_. So I figure I shouldn’t try to do that to anyone else. Like, yeah, I’ll be there for them if they need it, but damn, why would I want to date someone that I just think is there for me to fix up?”

“I dunno. Sometimes people like fixing up old cars.”

“Cars aren’t people.” Jake bites the inside of his cheek. “I want to date someone who’s… like… I mean, everyone’s a work in progress, but I want to date someone who’s comfortable being with me as themselves. Can’t tell you how many times a girl’s thrown herself at me just hoping that being with me will cure all her problems.”

“Yeah, but like, theoretically, her popularity problems _might_ be—”

“I also don’t really feel like being used like that,” Jake says, cutting off whatever Michael might’ve said, and Michael has the sense to look a little apologetic. “I want someone who likes themselves already. Maybe that’s why me and Chloe got together so often. Or maybe that’s why I liked Christine so much, she just—she knows what she wants, she’s passionate about the things she likes. Maybe she doesn’t know who she is yet, but at least she knows what she likes.”

Michael hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Guess that makes sense.”

“Not even sure if I want anyone. If I did date someone at this point, they’d have to be pretty fuckin’ stellar.”

And he makes eye-contact with Michael for a beat too long, before he realizes that he really shouldn’t have looked at him while he was saying those particular statements.

Then, there’s a quiet, uncertain moment before Michael pipes up, and Jake’s sure that he’s going to call him out for his big, gay crush.

And like a modern day Cassandra, Michael asks, “So like, are you bi or something?”

And Jake’s heart just about stops.

“Why—uh, why do you ask? I didn’t say I was,” he says, and knows that neither confirming nor denying is pretty much the same as confirming at this point, but he can’t bring himself to say either.

Michael raises a brow at him and looks at him intensely from behind his glasses. “You keep saying ‘them.’ So either you’re exclusively into nonbinary people, which I know isn’t true since you’ve dated lots of girls, or there’s uh, another gender that you’re including in that ‘them.’”

Jake’s face warms, and he looks away before he can condemn himself any further.

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing, dude.” Michael sits up, moving forward so he’s sitting just at the edge of Jake’s feet. He scoots one leg over, then moves forward until he’s almost between Jake’s knees. It’s a little more intimate than Jake would’ve expected, but he’s not exactly complaining. “I mean. I’m gay. I’m pretty sure I won’t hold it against you if you think guys are hot.”

And Jake wants to say something snarky back, wants to relax and make some comment about having enough trouble balancing all the girls who like him that it’d make his schedule _doubly_ booked if he let onto liking boys.

But instead, his throat goes dry, and he finds himself feeling uncharacteristically anxious.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” is what comes out instead. And at the uncertain, slightly hurt furrow in Michael’s brow, it’s the wrong thing to say. “Shit. Sorry. I just—I didn’t figure it out till sophomore year.”

“Ah.”

And Michael obviously doesn’t know why that’s important, so Jake rubs at his forehead, tries to make it make more sense. “That’s the year Rich and I became best friends. Well—SQUIP Rich. And he was a huge dick with like, homophobia and shit.”

“And now you two barely talk,” Michael points out, without missing a beat—like Jake hasn’t considered that a thousand times already. “And it’s not like he’s a homophobe now that he knows he’s bi. So what gives, why not just let it out?”

Jake swallows, trying to put some liquid back in his dry throat, but it’s not coming. Instead, he just lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose. “It makes me too many things at once.”

Michael only squints at him.

“I’m already black,” Jake says, and it’s a struggle just to get those couple of syllables out. “And I was in a wheelchair and crutches for like. Two months. And I’m already a jock, and a…  Model UN kid, and an AP kid, and popular, and people already joke about how much I must have sex.”

“And being bi would affect that… _how_?”

“You already know what jokes they make about bi people and sex, okay? I don’t need people thinking that—that any of that, is because I like both.” He flares his nostrils, feeling a surge of frustration. That Michael, who just _gets_ so many other things, and is gay and mixed himself, isn’t automatically understanding him. “And I know that I’m not even on crutches or anything anymore, but—you really think people aren’t gonna think it’s too much, being black, and having a major injury, _and_ liking boys?”

The way Michael is staring at him lets Jake know that he’s not happy with that answer. But then, before the moment is gone, he puts a hand on Jake’s knee. “You said like, two minutes ago that you’d want to date someone who was comfortable being themselves. Sounds pretty fucking hypocritical to me, if you’re that scared of people finding out that you like boys.”

It almost floors him, how simple Michael makes it sound, when Jake’s feeling a million things at once and everything is so much more complicated than that.

For a second, there’s tense silence between them, before Michael lets out a sigh and rubs at his forehead. “Sorry. That probably sounds pretty fuckin’ harsh, it’s just, Jeremy’s so sensitive about being bi, too. I think I might be taking some of that out on you.”

Jake tilts his head a little to the side. “What’s there to take out?”

“It’s not exactly easy, dating someone who’s still kind of ashamed of the fact that they like you.”

There’s a beat of silence, neither quite knowing what to say.

Then, “You really think he’s ashamed of you?”

“No. No, that’s—that’s not what I meant,” Michael says. “It’s just, he’s not… He’s not _secure_ about liking boys, plural, and that makes it hard for him to accept that he’s dating me _,_ singular. And I gotta keep wondering if he’d rather leave me for literally any girl in existence, just because he’s not comfortable with that part of himself.”

“It’s not because he’s bi.”

“No, you’re right. There’s nothing wrong with being bi. But there is something wrong with being ashamed of half the people you find attractive, and being so ashamed of it that you make your partner worry about whether or not they’re just a fad.” Michael huffs through his nose. “You know me. I’m not some like, insecure teenage girl who’s gotta ask her boyfriend for reassurance every five seconds, okay? But I know Jeremy, and I’m not going crazy by thinking that maybe he’d prefer someone else.”

It kind of breaks Jake’s heart to hear, but he can see where Michael’s coming from.

“I wouldn’t want someone—” It takes a second for Jake to realize that the gender-neutral language is unnecessary, and he takes a breath before self-correcting. “I wouldn’t want my future-hypothetical-boyfriend to feel like that,” he finally says. “So you probably have a point.”

Michael manages a wry, uncertain smile. “Then that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Yeah.”

The air is heavy for another couple of seconds, before Michael leans back, comfortable and relaxed, even if his legs are resting a lot closer to Jake than before. “So,” he says after a beat, tone a little wry. “Your future-hypothetical-boyfriend, huh?”

Jake tosses the tennis ball at Michael’s chest. “It’s not like I know his _name_ yet, damn. Making fun of my relationship before I even have one.”

Michael laughs, not meanly, but enough to make Jake’s face feel a little warm. “I bet you’re into super skinny white boys,” he teases, waggling his brows over his glasses. “Should I be worried?”

It takes some will-power not to say it’s Jeremy that ought to be worried. Instead, Jake just leans back and dramatically rests a hand over his heart. “Pretty sure I haven’t fallen for any white boys yet,” he says. “But there’s this Asian guy in some of my classes…”

“If you’re talking about Mr. Patel from pre-Calc, so help me, Jake, I will put you back in your casts.”

Jake flips him off. “The heart wants what it wants. And no. But I don’t have to share my crush just because you ask. I’m gay, not a gossip. Talk to Jenna if you want both in one.”

“I feel so fucking betrayed right now. One of my best friends, ignoring my very important need to find out everyone’s gay crush. How could you do this to me?” Michael moves forward, knees on either side of one of Jake’s thighs, shifting forward until he’s got his hands by Jake’s shoulders.

It’s the closest Jake’s had another teenage boy since a short-lived stint in wrestling.

And Jake has to ask himself exactly why he chose not to pursue wrestling, because damn, if he can’t actually date a boy, then this might be a close alternative.

It takes some pretty strong will-power not to just reach up and cup Michael’s cheek, but he restrains himself just in time. Instead, he impulsively moves his hand up to Michael’s ever-present headband, lightly tugs on it, and lets the elastic snap back on Michael’s forehead.

Michael just _stares_ at him for a second, shocked. Then, all he can ask is a baffled, “What the fuck, Jake?”

It’s the only thing keeping him from kissing him and possibly ruining their entire friendship. Jake’s not exactly happy about not kissing him, but he supposes it’s better than kissing him and regretting it.

“What would your boyfriend think about you crawling over me?” he asks, pressing a hand against Michael’s chest. And it kind of kills him, how much he wants to continue pressing, how much he wants to just follow every teenage hormone he’s ever had and _go for it_. “Because like. I mean. I wouldn’t… do anything, but, y’know. I _am_ Jake-fuckin’-Dillinger, and I… kind of dated the last person he liked, too. So.”

There’s something Jake can’t quite read in Michael’s eyes. Or maybe it’s the way his glasses have gone a little foggy. The thing is, Jake’s not sure if it’s his own hot face that’s causing it, or Michael’s—but at least one of them is blushing up a storm.

Michael’s quiet for just a beat too long. “Jeremy doesn’t know much about how we spend our Saturdays,” he finally says. And usually that’s exactly what Jake hears at parties before a girl-with-a-boyfriend kisses him, which puts them on dangerous ground for a second. But this time, Michael pulls away a little, shifting until he’s seated between Jake’s thighs, his knees bent at an awkward angle with one foot tucked behind Jake’s back. “But uh—yeah. You’ve probably got a point. Shit. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, man.” Jake watches as the fog clears a little when Michael pulls back. It’s not obvious at first, but Michael has a pink undertone to his cheeks now—something that wasn’t there just a few minutes ago.

It _shouldn’t_ make Jake feel good. It really, really shouldn’t. But it does.

He crosses his arms over Michael’s knees, tries to say something, and finds that there are no words in the world that could make this moment less uncomfortable, less dangerous.

They’re saved only when Michael’s phone rings.

He fumbles for it for a second, struggling to slide it out of his back pocket when he’s sitting down so precariously, but he manages it before the phone stops ringing, and picks up with a slightly breathless, “Hello? Jeremy?”

And Jake isn’t prepared for the unwelcome, unyielding flare of jealousy in his chest.

“Babe! Yeah, yeah, I’m at Jake’s. No, he’s not at mine, we—yeah, we’re here because we had more room to spread out and go over lines,” Michael says, even though they’re sitting entirely too close on a couch, and they haven’t even opened their lines. It was true in theory, though. “I can come home in an hour, but I wanna get at least a little more done here?”

There’s something said that makes Michael wince, and Jake knows he shouldn’t feel like this, but all he wants is to be a better boyfriend than Jeremy.

But he can’t, because he’s trying to be a better person in general. And he can’t be better if he’s willing to help someone cheat on their boyfriend and best friend of twelve years.

For the first time since vowing to do better, Jake resents himself a little.

If he was a little more like the rumors say he was—if he was just a little bit more daring, more _suave_ , more willing to have flings that mean less than nothing, then maybe…

“No, we haven’t gotten to that part of the script yet,” Michael’s saying, and his brows are knitted like he’s confused—maybe even upset. “I already told you I’d fix it up a little, but—you don’t get it, man, the entire plot _literally_ revolves around it.”

It takes a second, but Jake’s realizing that Michael must be talking about a part based off of Jeremy himself. Something that Jeremy doesn’t want to be a part of the play, probably because it casts him in a bad light. As if it’s just so _easy_ to pretend that Jeremy didn’t cause an awful lot of this.

Some might tell Jake to be more forgiving, more indulgent, and push aside what Jeremy and Rich did.

And he has, he really has.

But that doesn’t mean that Michael has to change the structure of his script for someone who doesn’t even support his hobbies.

They talk a little more, with Jake trying his damndest not to eavesdrop. But he can’t block out Michael’s tone, or the way he sounds frustrated with his boyfriend.

When the phone call ends, that frustration doesn’t dissipate. Not even when Jake reaches forward and lightly rests a hand on his shoulder. The worst part of it is that Michael jumps a little. He doesn’t pull away, but it’s enough to remind Jake that everything they were doing isn’t allowed, and Michael knows it as well as he does. So instead of comforting him, he asks, “You wanna go over lines?”

Michael nods and puts a hand on top of Jake’s for just a second. Then he pats it and pulls away, sliding off the couch with ease. “I’m gonna grab the script, let’s pick up where we were last time. You still have your notebook for some plot adjustments? Jeremy, uh—he… I dunno how the hell we’re gonna manage it, but he wants to play a pretty different role.”

Jake purses his lips. “And you think you should go with it?”

“I think he’s still my boyfriend and this manuscript makes him look like a pretty big douchebag. Even if the SQUIP thing is the biggest adventure any of us have ever gone on and I want to make it true to life, I shouldn’t intentionally make him look like a totally irredeemable douchebag if I clearly don’t feel that way about him.”

And he says it like he’s repeating something, and Jake feels a flash of anger at Jeremy.

“Anyways,” Michael continues, “He’s right on one account. No one wants to see a play where the protagonist is a jerk. I mean, I didn’t think I was actually writing him that way, but we might as well double-check to make sure that the protag’s likeable.”

Jake nods, because he gets it, even if he doesn’t really agree with the circumstances.

For the rest of the afternoon, they work on the script and the plot, revising it until Jeremy’s lines are funnier, sadder, and more approachable. It doesn’t sound like Jeremy—or, hell, like anyone he’s ever met, because anyone that perfect and _sweet_ wouldn’t want a SQUIP—but it seems to satisfy Michael.

And, when Michael heads towards the door, Jake follows him into the doorway, leaning on one side of it. “Happy with the changes? Any last-minute bursts of creativity you want me to write down for next time? Any plot twists that’ll have the audience going _wild_?”

Michael only gives him a wry, knowing smile. “Sure do,” he says, and his eyes flicker a little down, from Jake’s eyes to his lips. And then something like guilt comes across his face, and he clears his throat. “Just playing around with the idea of who the protagonist ends up with at the end.”

“Ah. The problem you’ve been stuck on since day one,” Jake says, making a tsking noise with his mouth. “We’ll hash that one out next time.”

Michael nods, looking for all the world like he’s going to fully agree. But his mouth opens and closes a few times more then is necessary to complete a thought, and finally, he comes out with, “Next time let’s stick to working on the script, okay?”

He doesn’t have to clarify what he means at all. Jake knows all too well why he needs to hear it, even if he wishes he didn’t have to.

“You’re the boss,” he says, giving a nod to agree. Then, he backs up a little, starting to close the door. “Take care, bro. Text me if you wanna hang out another time this week, ‘kay?”

Instead of saying yes or making even the start of plans, Michael rubs the side of his arm. “I think I’m planning on doing some stuff with Jeremy most of the week, and I promised Christine I’d see a musical with her on Friday.”

It doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it might, but still, Jake feels his own smile get a little more forced. “Right, right. Can’t expect to hog you all to myself every week,” he says. Then he laughs a little and shakes his head. “Tell Jeremy I say hi. ‘Night.”

He knows it’s probably rude, but he closes the door after that, only giving Michael the opportunity to say a quiet, “Night,” back at him.

For all that Jake was the one to close the door on Michael, though, he finds himself standing behind it for a while anyways.

He’s not really sure what he wants here. But he knows that whatever just happened, it isn’t it.


	5. like you have been

Considering how close Michael and Jake got in such a short period of time, it should’ve been easy to pull away and spend less time with him.

But it’s not.

It’s not like there’s a hole in Jake’s chest, because he _gets_ it, he really does. Michael’s a good guy, and good people don’t cheat on their significant others, no matter the kind of relationship issues they’re going through.

But damn, if Jake doesn’t wish that Michael was just a little more willing to call it off, a little more willing to go for Jake instead.

Michael isn’t, though, and Jake just has to live with that. So he fills his time almost exclusively with the girls in his friend group.

The first week is the hardest, because Jenna is inexplicably busy, and Brooke’s spending time with Chloe, and even Christine is busy with Jeremy on the same day they planned to hang out. She’d said it was something like an emergency, and that Jeremy really needed to talk to someone, but that they can hang out ‘for sure’ next Wednesday.

The next Saturday with Michael is productive, script-wise, but not with anything else. That’s probably what hurts the most. There’s little in the way of joking around, and even the tiny amounts of friendly teasing they do is quickly cut off after a guilty look crosses Michael’s face.

So, yeah—it’s kind of a shitty week.

But the next week improves a little. Monday still kind of sucks, and Tuesday is better only because Model UN is busy with a scenario regarding nuclear missiles. But on Wednesday, Christine’s finally free again, and it’s the first real bright spot he’s had in days. After all, it’s hard to feel lonely with Christine around. …Especially when she’s introducing him to another film adaption of a well-loved musical. There’s singing and dancing and impromptu theater numbers—and Jake can’t help but get engrossed in the showtunes and the fun vibes.

Sure, life isn’t actually _Hairspray_ , but damn, maybe he wishes it was. Except, like, not actually set in the sixties, because no thank you, Jake likes being able to drink from whatever water fountain he wants, and not getting beaten up or worse for dating white girls, or boys in general.

But like, the musical part—that part, he’d love.

After the movie’s over, he finds himself in a loud karaoke duet of ‘Good Morning, Baltimore,’ with both he and Christine singing at the top of their lungs.

It’s probably the most fun he’s had in weeks, and he has to admit, even if his legs still give him some trouble, dancing to showtunes is the only exercise he’s had in months that hasn’t been a chore or painful.

“And I promise, BAAAALTIMORE,” Christine continues, just nearly to the end, and Jake’s own voice carries the tune and the next line, “That some day when I taake to the floor!”

“The world’s gonna wake up and seeeeeee! Baltimore and me!”

“Baltimore and meeee!”

“Baltimore aaaaaaend meeeeeeee!”

The last “Baltimore and me” line has Jake collapsing on the couch, good mood high in his chest, and he happily props his tired legs up on the coffee table.

“So like, is there a reason that Middleborough hasn’t put on a production of Hairspray?” Jake asks after they’ve both caught their breath a little. “I mean—damn, it’s gotta be one of the most iconic musicals out there.”

Christine lies on her back, longways on the couch—and it’s kind of adorable that her feet don’t quite reach him, even when she’s sprawled out all the way. She also holds up a finger to show that she’s gonna need a minute to catch her breath before answering.

Times like these, he remembers exactly what drew her to him. But he also knows that he blew his chance with her, and that she’s probably happier single for now. She’ll go on to have amazing relationships in college and beyond, he knows—she’s an incredible girl.

It's not a bad thing, that they’re not together. Maybe it’s not a great thing, either, because he could see them working it out someday, if he didn’t have someone else he had his eye on. But he’s not really outright interested, either, and he hadn’t exactly been jealous when she got with Jeremy.

And it’s probably a sign that he really is over her because there’s not even a prick of jealousy when he pictures her with other, potential future guys. Or hell, other girls, because he hasn’t exactly missed some patches and stickers on her laptop.

“Mr. Reyes doesn’t like musicals,” she finally says, breaking Jake’s train of thought—and Jake realizes a beat too late that he’s been staring. He hopes it hasn’t come across the wrong way, but when she looks up at him with a knowing grin, he knows that they understand each other perfectly. “He thinks that high schoolers would totally ruin musical theater and that none of us have the singing ability or range to pull off Broadway-level productions.”

“You say that like he’s literally said that.”

“He has. Sophomore year. I might be forgetful with literally everything else, but I’m saving that for my spite-quote senior year, once I get accepted into Julliard, or NYU’s performing arts department.”

The amount of petty energy stored up in that little body is always funny to Jake. Hell, the amount of energy in her in general is amazing. He’s partly convinced that her body thinks it’s six inches taller than she actually is, and that’s where she gets all that extra buzz around her.

It’s where she also gets her tendency to call people out for bad behavior, and act on her emotions, which he’s pretty sure is her best quality.

“What’ll your senior quote be, exactly?” he asks. “’Cause it can’t just be a quote from Mr. Reyes, you’re way too creative for that.”

Christine’s grin turns almost Cheshire-cat level smug. “’For those of you who think teenagers would ruin musical theater…’” She holds up both hands and slowly spreads them apart, as if painting a visual picture. “’Suck on my Julliard scholarship.’”

“Poetic.”

“It really is,” she says, laughing and plopping her hands back down. Unable to sit still at the best of times, though, she swings her legs over the side of the couch, then starts tapping one of her feet. “I already submitted applications to Julliard and NYU, too. Because, you know, you have to apply the end of junior year or the beginning of senior year for these big schools. I’m probably not going to find out whether or not I’m getting in until the start of senior year, maybe even after Christmas. …Is it wrong to be nervous?”

“Nah, it’s not wrong,” Jake says. He’s long used to her switching-topic, long-winded replies by now. Hell, it’s kind of nice not to always have to keep the conversation going by himself. “I think it’d be a little cocky to not be nervous, especially for schools that competitive. But I think you’ll get in.”

“Well, it’s not just about getting in, either—Julliard also has this huge, terrifying performance that you have to do for them. You have to impress judges that are traveling and watching talented people all over the country. I might not even get them to agree to watch me perform, let alone get accepted.”

“Ah. So like… sports scouting,” he says, quick to make the connection. “Don’t you at least get to send them like, a video recording of you performing, though?”

“I did, I did,” she agrees. “A few ones, with music and with just regular acting. But who knows when they’ll get around to replying to my auditions, you know?” She sighs, then shakes her head. “At least I’m pretty sure I’ll get into NYU. It’s a great school, too—a lot of Broadway performers and Hollywood actors and singers and dancers went there. I don’t mind either, really, I just—you know, it’s scary, trying to plan for the future.”

“Yeah.” Jake shifts, letting his feet drop from the coffee table to rest on the floor so he can turn and look at her easier. “The future is… uh, kinda intimidating.”

Christine looks at him for a moment, tilting her head at him like she’s deciding something. “So. Are you decided on what college you want to go to yet?”

Jake swallows a little, hearing the echo of his conversation with Michael a few weeks ago. “No clue.”

“And I take it you won’t be going on like, football scholarships anymore, huh? Not that you need them—you’re in a lot of academic clubs, and you’re kind of a star on the archery team, too. You could probably get scholarships for almost anything.”

“Maybe,” he says, and there’s the slightest feeling that he’s out of his depth, talking about the future with someone who pretty much knows what she wants to do. Again, maybe Christine’s not totally sure who she is yet, but she at least knows what she wants to do for the next few years.

Christine seems to get that, because she reaches over and pats his knee. “You’re gonna be okay, Jake. What like, um, things would you wanna study in college, though?”

“I don’t know.” He laughs uncertainly. “That’s the whole problem, you know? I don’t have sports anymore—and maybe that’s like, good? Because I really wasn’t thinking about studying anything back when I was just playing football. But now I’m like, always just with Model UN and stuff, and I’ve been uh, working on this whole project with Michael, and…”

“Ohh…” Christine starts. “You mean the film thing?”

Jake blinks at her. “You know about that?”

“Jeremy mentioned it the other day,” she says, and Jake’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Jeremy’s been talking about Michael’s dead-secret project with his ex. But then again, it’s not _his_ place to feel upset, either. “Michael’s making a documentary film thing about the SQUIPs and how they took over the world. Sort of like Cloverfield, right?”

“More like Dave Built a Maze,” Jake replies, before he can stop himself. Then he puts a hand over his mouth, as if to stop the word vomit, and he keeps it there for a second to get his bearings. “Shit, sorry, I just—he didn’t want anyone knowing about it, you know?”

Christine nods. “I know. But it’s kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“Isn’t it a little mean?” She scoots a tiny bit closer to Jake, criss-crossing her legs on top of the couch instead of letting them dangle. “I mean, maybe I’m getting it all wrong since I’ve only heard what Jeremy broke down and told me, but—it just seems like Michael’s only doing it because they’re fighting?”

“I thought they were only fighting because Jeremy doesn’t like that Michael’s going to UCLA,” Jake says, and Christine’s eyes widen, which makes him think that maybe there’s some things that neither Christine nor Jake really know.

“Michael’s going to UCLA?”

“That’s where he really wants to go,” Jake says. “And Jeremy really wants to stay in-state. Michael’s serious about wanting to go into film, Christine, it’s not like he’s just doing this to hurt Jeremy.”

Christine looks at him, nodding a little slower. “Okay, I think I kind of get it, but—you _know_ the film he’s working on doesn’t exactly put Jeremy in a good light, right?”

“I know,” Jake says, maybe a little uncomfortably. “But it’s based off of something that really happened, and let’s face it, there’s not a whole lot in _New Jersey_ that you can pull inspiration from. Can you really blame Michael for thinking that it makes a pretty amazing story?”

“Well, I mean, not really, but Michael’s plenty creative. I’m sure he could come up with something else, Jake.” Christine frowns a little, tiny wrinkles forming in her forehead. “And you’re sure he’s not just doing this because he’s mad at Jeremy?”

Jake opens his mouth to say no, but hesitates. “I don’t think so,” he finally says. “But I… I mean, I do know that Jeremy did a lot of stuff to hurt him in that time period. And it’s not like Michael’s just going to cut that part out of the film, you know?”

“Even though they’re dating?”

“Look, if he writes that part out, he writes himself out of the story entirely. And Michael was the reason we didn’t end up SQUIP’d for life.” He’s not sure why he feels quite this defensive over his friend, because he knows that Christine has a point. But he also knows that Michael deserves to tell the story he wants to tell. “It’s not like he’s writing Jeremy as a monster, okay? He’s just…”

“He’s written like an insecure teenage boy who makes bad decisions that hurt a lot of people.”

“Which is exactly what happened.”

“I know that, and you know that,” Christine says. “But how would you like it if I made a documentary about Halloween night, and made it all about how you and I were together, and suddenly we fell apart, and you rebounded with your ex less than five minutes later?”

And Jake freezes for a second, stomach dropping. “That’s… That’s not exactly…”

“It _is_ what happened, Jake,” she says. And there’s not bitterness in her tone, not exactly, but her voice is pointed. “And I could choose to be really, really hurt by that. But I’m choosing not to be, because I’m confident and I know that I’m a good person who deserves to be loved. Jeremy _doesn’t_ have that same confidence.”

Jake purses his lips a little, and can’t argue that she’s got a point. “Okay, so maybe Michael’s still a little upset about what happened,” he finally says. “But to be honest, I’m not even sure if _he_ realizes that he’s still upset about that. Not to mention as soon as Michael called him last Saturday—not the one this past weekend, the one before it—he switched the script up a lot, just to make Jeremy seem like this perfect, ‘do no wrong’ angel.”

Christine goes quiet for a second, as if trying to process it. “Well, Jeremy doesn’t know that, then, because he was crying his heart out last time we hung out.”

“It’s not Michael’s fault if Jeremy’s insecure,” Jake says. “And I know that sounds mean, but is it like, really fair for Michael to have to change up his scholarship application just to make his boyfriend feel better? They’re not even going to the same school after they graduate, and I doubt they’ll last long after they graduate.”

The room goes eerily silent, and Christine stares at Jake, as if he’s said something awful. And it takes Jake a second to realize that _one_ , he was quoting Michael and Michael probably doesn’t want anyone to know that—and _two_ , that if Christine didn’t know he was quoting Michael, then it looked like he just wanted them to break up.

“How can you say that?” she finally asks. “Jake, you can’t just—expect them not to make it work. They’re both putting in the effort to make it work.”

“Are they?” Jake asks. “Are they _really_?”

And Christine’s expression gets almost suspicious. “So, are you saying there’s a good reason Jeremy doesn’t want you to be around Michael anymore?” she asks. “Because I spent a long time trying to convince him last time I saw him that you’re not that type of guy. Was I wrong?”

Jake swallows thickly. “You aren’t wrong.”

“But am I totally, one-hundred-percent right?” she asks, more pointedly. “Because listen, if there’s something going on between you and Michael, I get it. But you can’t just encourage him to cheat on Jeremy. That’s not fair to any of you.”

There’s just a beat too long of silence. But finally, Jake sighs and says, “There’s nothing going on.” Then, because it’s really hard to lie to Christine, “Even if I want there to be.”

Christine’s brows raise for a moment, before her face softens a little. “I see.”

“Nothing’s happened, but—I can just kind of tell that we both want there to be something. But that’s why Michael’s been pulling away, and why he hardly talks to me about anything outside of the script now,” he says, maybe just a little bitterly. “Jeremy probably said something to him. I don’t know. But it’s just… It’s really, really hard not to get angry about it. I’ve heard Michael’s side of all this mostly, and I—look, I get why Jeremy’s all defensive. I dated you when he wanted you, and he sees me as a threat or whatever. But I hate how Jeremy makes Michael feel sometimes.”

“…You hate that Michael likes Jeremy?”

It’d be easy to say yes and pretend that that’s why he’s angry—that he’s just jealous. But even though there’s definitely some jealousy mixed in, it’s really not why he’s so up in arms about this. “No,” he finally says. “Look, the script is pretty accurate in a lot of ways. And Michael… before he changed it to pretend that Jeremy was this perfect angel who was taken advantage of by a SQUIP—before all that, I saw the scenes where Jeremy hurt Michael. And…”

“…And?”

Jake’s overstepping his bounds, and he knows it. But he can’t exactly bring this up with Michael himself. So even if it’s gossiping, he’s kind of at his wit’s end with how he’s feeling.

“Look, you can’t tell Jeremy or Michael any of this. But Michael feels like Jeremy’s going to toss him aside the second someone else shows him any interest. He thinks that Jeremy’s embarrassed of him, and that he’s just going to leave the second Jeremy finds someone else—especially if that someone is a girl. And seeing what Jeremy’s done in the past?” Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s that crazy for Michael to believe it.”

“But Michael hasn’t actually told Jeremy any of this,” Christine says. “Just you.”

“Yeah.”

Christine sighs through her nose. “So, they need to talk,” she decides. “That’s the real issue. They need to talk this out and then they’ll get over it.”

And Jake knows that she’s right, and he knows that he should wish that they can just get past this and be happy together. But there’s the tiniest seed of jealousy there—the hope that it doesn’t work out, and that he can be there after it blows up in Michael’s face.

“I guess,” he finally says. “But like I said—you can’t tell Michael or Jeremy what I said. I know you want to fix things between them, but it’d probably break Jeremy’s heart if he hears that second-hand.”

“It’ll break it worse if he hears it from Michael himself.”

“Michael has better tact than that. He’s not gonna just come right out and say, ‘Hey boyfriend, remember that time you ditched me for popularity and a girl you liked? Guess what, I live in fear that you’re gonna do the same thing to me again!’”

Christine raises a brow. “Michael’s not as tactful as you think.”

And… that’s fair, because Jake can definitely remember a few instances where Michael’s bluntness had started fights among their friend group. “I guess,” he says. “But I still mean it. We need to stay out of it.”

“No, _you_ need to stay out of it,” Christine says. And when Jake’s expression goes a little dark, she raises one hand in a ‘wait for it’ gesture. “You’re too close to all of this. And no offense, but Jeremy’s threatened by you and Michael won’t talk to you right now anyways. But I can get them to talk and work it out.”

Jake knows she’s probably right, but it doesn’t stop the anger in his stomach, or the frustration he feels, _because_ she’s right. “…And if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out. Plenty of high school relationships don’t. It’s not that big of a deal if it doesn’t,” she says. “Jeremy will get over it eventually, just like he got over me.”

Jake nods, satisfied. Then, with maybe the tiniest bit of guilt, he asks, “…And if it does work out?”

“Then they stay together and figure it out. Even if they go to different schools, sometimes long distance works out. It’s not up to us to tell them who to be with, Jake.”

It kind of hurts to hear, but Jake knows she’s right. So he sighs through his nose and nods. “Alright. Fair enough.”

She pats him on the shoulder, expression turning sympathetic. “I know it sucks right now,” she says. “But it’ll be okay. Just try to be there for Michael without trying to be his boyfriend, you know? You guys really are great friends, and it makes me happy to see how happy you make each other.”

Despite knowing it’s probably not the best thing to say, he can’t help but ask, “And what if I can make him a lot happier than Jeremy can?”

“Then that’s for Michael to decide,” she says. “Not you.”

It kind of feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Not just because Christine’s right, but because Michael’s clearly chosen Jeremy. The worry that Jeremy is _really_ who makes him happier is a feeling that’s been wriggling under Jake’s skin for weeks now. And if Michael’s severed so much unnecessary contact with Jake, then it basically confirms that Christine is right, and that Michael already made his choice.

So he swallows thickly and looks away, ignoring her attempt at comforting him. “Sure,” he says. Then, he glances at the time, and wonders if it’s too early to ask to be alone. “I have some Model UN stuff to do, and some AP Lang to work on before tomorrow,” he says after a moment. “I should probably get on that.”

He can tell by the sympathetic, knowing look on Christine’s face that she sees it for the flimsy excuse that it is. But she doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, she just nods and pulls away. “Alright, Jake,” she says. “I’ll see you at school, okay?”

“Okay.”

And it isn’t okay, not really, because Jake still feels kind of empty inside, and he knows that that feeling isn’t going to go away any time soon. But it’ll have to do for now, because he’s run out of other options.


	6. and ill never tell how i fell for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the no good horrible very bad day. aka, plot things are set in place

Texts from Michael are getting less frequent.

Like, they’ve been pretty infrequent for the three week or so _anyways_ , ever since Michael chose dating Jeremy over a closer friendship with Jake. But they’re becoming a true rarity now, without a meme in sight. Just reminders about homework, or thoughts about the script.

And, honestly, it’s not like Jake’s _really_ upset about it.

He’s not. For real. He’s got other friends and he still, like, occasionally hangs out with Michael. It’s just that when they do hang out, it’s Script-Only-Hangouts with the occasional bag of chips between them and nothing more intimate than a high-five when they manage to solve issues with the script or nail the delivery of an awkward line.

It’s probably embarrassing how much Jake loves just Michael’s _high fives_.

He’d probably kill for a real hug, and do much, much worse for anything more.

Not that Jake should even be _thinking_ of more when Michael’s made it so clear how he sees them and where Jake falls on his list of priorities.

The most uncomfortable moment of all was Jake was looking over an earlier version of the script—the one before Jeremy was reduced to a bland, flavorless, easy-to-pity protagonist. It wasn’t much—just a line about Jeremy specifically choosing popularity over Michael. And it was enough to make Jake’s stomach sink.

He feels a little too much like Michael, when he reads it—a friend being passed up for a date.

There isn’t a twelve-year friendship on the line, though. Maybe twelve weeks, if they stretch the truth a little. But it’s still a friendship that Jake holds close to his heart, and being shoved aside or isolated isn’t something he’s used to.

It does give him more time to spend with other friends, though, which gives Jake even more mixed feelings. And more of a sense of obligation to pursue those other friendships. To make sure that if Michael drops him completely, that he’s got other people he can turn to.

Brooke and Christine and Jenna are one thing, and easy, because they don’t have as much history or drama between them.

(…Well, Christine’s got plenty of _Drama_ , but that’s because she’s a Thespian. And because she’s his ex. But they’re on good terms, so…)

But now that his schedule is getting freer, and now that he’s trying to repair friendships, there’s one that he can’t ignore anymore. He never quite burned his bridge with Rich—just put up a ‘do not enter’ sign. And now it’s time to figure out what to do.

Which involves not ignoring his texts or conveniently finding excuses to not hang out.

Not that he’s been _avoiding_ him, not exactly, but—

But, with how bad he feels about _Michael_ avoiding him, there’s a little seed of guilt deep inside with how he’s handling his friendship with Rich. However small inside Jake feels when Michael ignores him, he can only guess that Rich is feeling the same. So he decides to do the adult, mature, grown-up thing and break the ice between them.

There’s no promise of Rich being anything like the guy he was such good friends with last year. But that also means that Rich is probably a better person than the person he knew last year, and Jake doesn’t know how to deal with that—the fact that the guy he liked was such a shitty person compared to the better version he has now.

He’s not sure if it makes him a bad person that he liked the shitty guy better.

But, it would make him a bad person to ignore him forever when Rich hadn’t done anything (new) wrong, so he’s gotta bite the bullet.

He takes his chance when he sees Rich leaving art class, paint smudged on his cheek.

“Rich,” he starts, half jogging towards him and feeling the burn on his thighs from a pretty intense workout last night. “Hey, wait up.”

It probably says something about Jake, and Jake’s avoidance, that Rich stops short and looks stunned.

Jake has the sense to look embarrassed. “Sorry if I startled you,” he says quickly. “I just—I wanted to ask, if you wanted to hang out later.”

“Later today?” Rich asks, brows raising. “I, uh—yeah, that should be fine. My after-- … my afternoon club got can-” And he looks frustrated for a second, and Jake can only imagine that he’s trying to figure out words that don’t contain an ‘s’ sound. “I don’t have to go to it anymore,” he finishes. “What’d you have in mind?”

“We could probably go to the mall or catch a movie? I’ve, uh, heard that you’re really into comics and stuff now. We could see the newest Marvel movie.”

Jake admittedly doesn’t know which Marvel movie is newest, because he hasn’t really kept up with movies in the last few months. Even the ones he’d been excited to see. His time with Michael’s kind of taken up most of his movie-going time, and…

Well. He doesn’t think it’d be smart, spending thirty bucks on a movie and popcorn every weekend, when he could be saving that money and just doing something cheap instead.

But hey, if it’s an olive branch for Rich, so be it.

To his credit, Rich lights up. He looks like someone’s just offered him about thirty-grand in cash money and comic books, and Jake’s pretty sure he’s never actually seen that expression on Rich’s face when he wasn’t off his ass drunk.

It might be nice, if he wasn’t remembering all the differences between this guy and the one that had been his best friend.

His stomach churns at the difference—at all the things this new guy is doing with Rich’s face.

But it’s a good expression, and one he wishes his old friend had made more. It’s just that he doesn’t know what to do with it, and…

Well. Lately he’s gotten used to trying to just make _Michael’s_ face look like that. And he’s kind of been failing the last week or so. Which _sucks_. It’s easy to make Rich smile, though, so Jake tries to focus on that.

“Sounds like a plan,” Rich says. Then the late bell rings and he starts to go. But not before he pats Jake’s upper arm as he passes him by, backpack swinging a little from one shoulder as he tries to maneuver the hall. “Text me the details later, okay?”

“’Kay,” Jake says, and waves as he watches him go.

Then he starts for his own next class, feeling the strangest mix of feelings in his gut.

It shouldn’t feel like he’s cheating when he knows he’s not. But yet, he feels low inside. Maybe it’s because he knows Rich will be satisfied with anything, and it means that he doesn’t even have to _try_ , yet he’ll reap the reward anyways, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

Or maybe it’s because a deeper part of him really wants to take Michael to this thing instead, but he knows he can’t. Plus, like, Jake also knows that even if he could take just Michael, it’s good to have other friends, too. It’s good, even if it’s hard, and even if he kind of wants things to be simple for a little while with someone who gives a shit.

His grip on his backpack gets uncomfortably tight as he thinks about it, tries to shut out the thoughts. But it’s not exactly meditation and Jake’s not exactly good at filtering his emotions, so his thoughts quickly become a whirlwind anyways.

That’s about when he runs into Jenna.

“Sorry,” she says on reflex, before realizing it’s Jake. Then, “You okay?”

The quick glance at his legs isn’t necessary since he didn’t even _fall_ , but the tiniest part of him feels a little better at being asked. “No harm, no foul,” he says. “I was the one not watching where I was going, so—uh, sorry. That’s my b.”

Jenna shakes her head. “Next time watch it, then. Might run into fewer people.” She gives him a bemused smile, then, “Hey, uh, since we ran into each other and everything…”

“Ha.”

“—I was wondering if you were going to have another party?”

Leave it to Jenna Rolan to ask, because it’s a question that Jake’s been dreading. Honestly, genuinely _dreading_. Between what he was already feeling and what he’s now been asked, his heart skips a beat, and he feels his skin go the tiniest bit grey as the blood leaves his extremities in favor of his more important organs inside.

He shouldn’t be feeling literal anxiety about this question, and yet, here he is.

“I, uh—there aren’t, like, currently any plans in the works,” he says, with anxiety reflected in his voice despite his best efforts. “Sorry, just—like, I totally would, it’s just, like.”

“After what happened last time, I know,” she says. And if she notices his anxious sounding voice, she’s polite enough not to say a word. “But I also know how much you always like, loved parties. And you’ve kind of been down lately so…”

Jake’s not sure what she means by that, but he hopes that the smile he puts on afterwards doesn’t look too fake. He goes for ‘bemused’ but whether or not she buys it is another story entirely. “What? Down, not a chance. I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”

Considering Jenna has known Jake for years and knows what he looks like when he’s busy with two sports and three clubs on top of good grades, she probably knows that’s bullshit. She doesn’t call him on it, though. “Uh huh. Well, I figure if it’s the location that you don’t want to risk, I could do it at my place.”

There’s becoming less and less of a reason for Jake to say ‘no’, and it’s kind of hard to come up with an excuse. Instead, his smile gets a little bigger, and against his better judgment, the only thing to come out of his mouth is, “That sounds awesome, actually.”

“I know, right?” Jenna grins and gets out her phone. “I’ll text you the details I was thinking, okay? Like, two Fridays from now, my parents are gonna be out so I was thinking it could be like a pretty big thing. Not as big as your usual ones, since your house was so big it was just perfect for parties, but this’ll be good! As long as you’ll be there, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Jake’s stomach sinks, thinking that he’s responsible for this somehow, but he nods anyways. “Dope. I’ll see you later though, ‘kay? I’m gonna be late to my next class.”

Jenna’s eyes widen and she puts her phone back into her pocket. “Shit, same.”

Jake waves, then hurries to class and hopes that his AP Literature teacher will still accept ‘my knees were hurting with how heavy my backpack is, sorry’ as an excuse. He’s pretty sure everyone can see through it so far, but no one’s called him out on it yet, so maybe he’ll be okay?

He eyeballs the class through the door for a second too late. Then the teacher catches him looking, which means he has to open the door. And by then, he’s prepared for the worst.

“Sit down, Jake,” Ms. Brownson says, and Jake winces at the tone.

Instead of giving his usual excuse, he says nothing, frozen at the obvious disapproval, then slides into his usual seat. As she passes around the worksheet they’ll be covering for the day, he sees a late slip stacked on top of his own, and his mood plummets.

It’s not a big deal, really, because he’s not a senior and so it won’t affect whether or not he walks at graduation.

But the thing about Middleborough’s late slips is that he either has to get a parent to sign it and call, promising that they had a stern talk with him about the importance of punctuality. And if he doesn’t get a parent to do all that, then he’ll get a detention.

And, uh, the thing is…

There’s not really a policy in place about students who’ve been emancipated.

And, considering he’s not sure how up-to-snuff his emancipation is, legally… He doesn’t really want Middleborough nosing around in his family affairs, lest they decide that he needs some kind of legal guardian. The last thing he needs was someone trying to like, do the whole foster thing with him.

He’s been doing fine on his own. Honest.

It’s bullshit that he needs a parent to call, and bigger bullshit that he’s going to have to stay behind for detention. Sure, physical therapy is over so he doesn’t have to worry about missing a session, but…

Jake doesn’t want to have to deal with this. Not today. Not right now.

But he has to, apparently, because there are no exceptions.

So he shoves the late slip into his backpack front, then gets to work on the sheet in front of him, struggling to focus with the swirling chasm of a bad mood burning inside of him.

Which, naturally, is the perfect time to remember that he has this class with Jeremy, and Christine, and Brooke.

Two of three aren’t bad, but one in particular makes his mood sink even worse. Predictably, that’s when the universe decides it’s time for Ms. Brownson to call on Jeremy Heere. _Just_ to make sure that Jake gets to hear his voice too, instead of politely ignoring his existence.

Granted, it isn’t exactly Jeremy’s fault, but considering how shitty Jake’s already feeling, it’s hard not to blame Jeremy for adding to it.

His pencil lead breaks while he listen, too, which is the _worst_. At least he’s not totally out of pencil lead, or else the day would really get bad. But the fact that he lost self-control for long enough to break a pencil over it is probably pretty concerning. Not for the first time, Jake feels bad for letting his temper spike, and yeah, he knows that some of the students around him might give him a wide berth because of his obvious bad mood. Probably more than they do when it’s a white kid with a bad mood. But he’s in a bad enough state already; the last thing he needs is to think about racism, too.

So he takes a breath, taps his pencil against the paper in some approximation of a rhythm, and tries to just exist while Jeremy talks with the teacher, back and forth. He’s probably trying to get out of answering, but this isn’t regular English, it’s AP English, and Ms. Brownson doesn’t accept anything less than the best.

Jeremy eventually gives an answer about the day’s reading, a few chapters near the end of Wuthering Heights, and Jake tries not to resent him for giving a real answer.

Jeremy, for all of Jake’s aggravation, doesn’t say anything bad. If he’s being honest, Jake’s not even paying attention to the ‘what’ that Jeremy says. It’s more the fact that he’s talking at all. Which means that all Jake hears is what’s probably a BS-ed approximation of the right answer.

Considering that’s what he’s listening _for_ , Jake tries to squash the tiny thing inside of him that wants to disagree with Jeremy’s answer for the hell of it, because clearly a person he’s annoyed with can’t be right, right?

Squishing that voice down doesn’t really work, though. Not this time.

Especially when the professor _calls on him_ and asks Jake for _his_ opinion on their latest bit of reading in Wuthering Heights, too. Specifically, about the “underlying themes” hidden in the relationship dynamics between the protagonists across generations.

And it makes him think.

Because. Well. Wuthering Heights has _nothing_ to do with his situation with Michael and Jeremy. It doesn’t. Honestly.

But it feels familiar.

And that might just be his downfall, because damn, is it harder to keep a filter going when you’re in a bad mood than when you’re feeling okay. Still, he can’t just choose not to answer, so he does his best to trust his mouth to say what he needs to say.

“I think there’s a lot of weird incest stuff going on with the entire Earnshaw family,” he says. And thank god, the class laughs along instead of making uncomfortable faces. He presses on, then, bolstered by the knowledge that no one thinks he’s either stupid or too into this book. It’s a careful boundary, in an AP class. “Like—no offense, but even with Heathcliff, like, what kind of dad who’s already in poverty just brings a random kid back with him from the city? I’m like 80% sure he secretly knocked a girl up and she died so he had to bring his kid home with him. Which like. Makes him and Catherine blood related. So like…”

Ms. Brownson cuts him off while giving him a longsuffering look. “Not quite the underlying theme I was looking for, Mr. Dillinger.”

It’s Jake’s intention to let her move onto someone else.

But his mouth, damn it, decides to keep on going, even when there’s no one to impress and nothing more that he needs to say to get participation credit.

“I think it’s about bad relationships,” he blurts. “Bad relationships taking over your life, because you’re too afraid to get out of them or try to make yourself better. Because you’re not willing to just, do better, and let your partner feel secure ‘cause you’re too big of an asshole to change into a better person for real.” He swears he feels Jeremy’s eyes bore into him—even though technically the entire class is looking at him, since he’s being dumb enough to give a _real_ , _thoughtful_ answer in AP Lit.

Ms. Brownson seems to expect him to continue, though, so Jake takes a breath and tries to redeem himself for his too-close-to-home outburst by bringing it back to the book.

“Catherine and Heathcliff were always together but they were bad for each other ‘cause they brought out the worst in each other, okay? Just because they’re in love doesn’t mean that they’re good for each other. And yeah, they’re equally bad apart from each other, but maybe they’re just doomed and there’s nothing that could save their love. Or maybe if they got enough distance, and moved away from Wuthering Heights, they’d actually be able to interact with like, society, and become better people without just being dragged down by all the crap that happened here. Maybe they’d meet more people and like, find someone who’d bring out the best in them instead of dragging them down. But they’re stuck in Wuthering Heights, and no one’s willing to move on.”

And, shit.

That’s so much more than he wanted to say.

Jake looks intently down at his paper, face feeling hot as he tries to scribble some notes down on his worksheet.

Ms. Brownson seems plenty satisfied with his answer and uses it to further her lecture, which doesn’t actually make things better. It might have, had she just let it be and moved on, but later in the class she references him again, and it makes his skin crawl, thinking that this is going to bite him in the ass. At least he’s in the front, so he can’t see the possibly (probably) judgmental looks that might’ve come from Jeremy or Brooke or Christine.

Fortunately, nothing else happens in class. The only thing he has to worry about for the end of the day is the swirling bad mood locked up in his chest, and the knowledge that he’s gotta hang out with Rich later, and that Jenna Rolan is going to be planning a party that he has to attend.

All while knowing that Christine is going to be talking to Michael and Jeremy soon.

 

\--

 

Jake and Rich only hang out for half an hour before the movie. And Jake doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s glad it’s not any more than that, because he doesn’t know what to say to fill the time, and Rich doesn’t seem to know, either.

They settle for ambling commentary on, like, Marvel movies and why they’re usually pretty good, and also some chatter about sports at Middleborough, and a couple complaints about tests lately.

Nothing all that important. But then again, their conversations before hadn’t exactly been thorough analyses of Edgar Allen Poe or anything, either. So Jake’s pretty sure that it’s not bad, as far as conversations go. Just a little awkward and slow.

Or maybe it’s just awkward and slow because it’s probably the worst day he’s had in months. Not the worst day of his life since, well, nothing can compare to the housefire or the day his parents told him they wouldn’t be coming back until after he graduated, full of ‘We’re so sorry, son, but we just can’t pass up this opportunity, you understand, right?’ which was a bunch of bullshit to cover up the real reason they left. But whatever.

Anyways. Not the worst day of his life.

At least it’s an excuse to eat overpriced junk food. Considering it’s the first thing Jake’s eaten all day, his earlier bad mood might have more of a rationale… But even with a full stomach, it lingers.  Not even the superheroes battling it out onscreen can really lift his mood, though the distraction is welcome.

And when it’s over, he and Rich don’t really talk any more than they had before.

It shouldn’t be a relief, but…

It _is_. And that makes him feel worse, somehow, in a way that’s different from feeling uncomfortable at sitting next to someone mostly in silence or with stilted small-talk for like, three hours.

He zones back into reality when he and Rich are starting to walk out of the theater. It’s only then that he realizes that Rich has been excitedly chattering about the movie for the last like, minute and a half, and Jake’s been unthinkingly responding with positive, but neutral, phrases.

“—and holy shit, I can’t believe he was in like, a five on one fight and still won,” Rich says. “I think they might be like, actually redeeming themselves after the last movie tanked. Like, I mean, comparatively.”

“Comparatively,” Jake responds, still just barely aware of his lips moving. Then, with slightly more thought, “Like, uh, compared to DC?”

“Compared to how much people hated the last Marvel movie.” Rich turns to look up at Jake, looking maybe the tiniest bit sheepish. “Am I overdoing it? I’m overdoing it, shit. You’re not like, into comics or anything, but I figured a _movie_ would be fine.”

“Nah, the movie isn’t the issue.”

They both go silent, and Jake realizes a beat too late that that was the wrong thing to say.

He’s quick to backtrack, then, in the interest of not putting up any more walls between them. “What I mean is—sorry, like, I was super excited to hang out with you when I said I wanted to hang out. But then like, my day kinda took a nosedive. I don’t mean to take it out on you, man, you know I wanna be here.”

Rich looks a little mollified, but…

There’s that vulnerability in his eyes, the kind he sometimes got when he was a little drunk and sitting a little too close to Jake on nights he’d stay over. Back when things were simple. Back when Rich wasn’t actually Rich, apparently, but the guy who managed to be exactly what Jake needed to be, whenever.

Shit, that sounded selfish. But Jake didn’t know that it wasn’t real. Not back then. Is he really such a bad person for wanting things to go back to how they were, sometimes?  

It puts a lump in Jake’s throat, and he swallows it back as best as he can.

“Yeah, I know, it’s no big deal,” Rich says with a laugh. “Just been a while. I was starting to think you don’t like hanging out with me anymore or something.”

“What? Nah, not a chance,” Jake lies. “I’ve just been busy, I guess. Trying to make other friends, too, ‘cause I’m just starting to realize that a lot of the friends I had sucked. Wouldn’t kill me to get closer to people who, uh… aren’t jocks. And whatever.” Jake rubs the back of his neck. “Plus it’s hard to stay close to people when you stop playing sports with them an’ all. No big or anything though.”

Rich makes a vague humming noise. “I guess, yeah. Michael Mell of all people though?”

“Yeah.”

It comes out more defensive than he means, but he’s not sure how else he could’ve said it, really. Rich seems to get it, though, and puts up his hands, palm-out. The universal ‘I surrender’ sign. “Hey, it’s not a big deal or anything, I just didn’t expect it is all.”

“Me, neither,” he says honestly. Jake finds his hands in his pockets, face feeling a little hotter than he remembers. “I, uh… yeah. Sorry if I’ve been distant, lately.”

“Least you can admit it,” Rich says, and Jake winces at the bluntness. Apparently all it took was one movie, and Rich was willing to stand up for himself a little. He’s not sure if it’s good or not yet. “Sorry, just didn’t think you were going to actually say anything about it. You’ve been, y’know. Avoiding me, and all.”

Jake doesn’t look at him. “I know, I know. I just…”

“It’s weird, right? You don’t know me, but I know you. That’s what it is.”

Jake wants to say no, just to spare Rich’s feelings, but… “Yeah,” he admits. “I guess I’m just a little hurt, that you… That the whole time we were friends, you were someone else. Couldn’t ever be yourself around me, but like, you were the first person I told a lot of stuff to, you know?”

“What, like that your parents—”

Jake cuts him off with a loud shushing sound, as if any of the strangers around him actually care. Then, “ _Yes_ , that. Okay? And… other shit, I don’t even know. Just—it sucks. I don’t know the first thing about you but you know all my shit. And you lied, like, the whole time.”

Rich lets out a sigh through his nose, then shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I know, man, I know. I sucked back then. But I still… I still want to be friends. That hasn’t changed. You deserve people in your corner.”

“What, like out of pity?”

The idea that anyone would want to be his friend out of pity— _him_ , _Jake_ _Dillinger_ —makes Jake’s blood feel like it’s going to boil, just for a moment.

“No, dude, not pity. You’re going through a lot of shit, though, that’s for sure.” Rich looks up at him, nudging his side just a little with his elbow. “All I’m saying is… I get it if you’re not that interested in being best friends again or anything. But I wanna at least be regular-level-friends. And like, have you not avoid me or ignore me.”

“Okay,” Jake says, before he can stop himself. “Alright. Yeah. That’s… that’s fair, man. Sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t really want to think that I was doing that, but…”

“No big. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Just lookin’ out for yourself ‘n all, I get it.”

The words shouldn’t come across as so hurtful, but they do, and Jake internally winces. “Thanks.”

Rich doesn’t apologize this time, though, and instead just starts to veer a little apart from him. “My house is pretty close, so I think I’ll just walk. Thanks for coming out, though. I know it was, uh…”

“I had fun.” Jake holds up a fist for a fist-bump. “I mean it, man.”

Rich smiles a little as he returns the fist-bump. Then he takes a few steps away, an exaggerated backwards gait as he starts in the general direction of his house. “See ya ‘round, Jake.”

Jake just nods and waves, then starts towards his car.

 

\--

 

It’s dark when he gets back to his house, which isn’t great.

But no sooner than he drops his backpack on the floor and starts to his room does he get a text from Jenna, asking if he’d seen her earlier messages, and—

Is it bad if he _has_ been ignoring her?

It’s ignoring in the same sense that he ignored his casts when they were on, because it was a reminder of bad news and things that he didn’t want to focus on. But Jenna is a person, not an inanimate object. Yet the messages feel just as restrictive and uncomfortable.

The words ‘yeah sorry been busy all day, you know how it is’ appears without his bidding, but he has the sense not to actually press send until he’s in a calmer state of mind.

The last thing he wants to be is passive aggressive to a girl who’s just trying to cheer him up. It’s just that right now, the last thing he wants is someone trying to cheer him up. And especially not with the means she’s offering. Not when all he really wants is to drown everything out with—

Probably not alcohol, come to think of it.

Or weed, even if he _is_ friends with Michael.

He’s not sure what he wants to drown it out with, but he knows that he wants it gone, by any means necessary.

But his talk with Rich reminded him that Jake’s not immune to being a dick, even if he tries to be a good person. So he takes a breath, rereads her text, and replies back: ‘hey! Sorry, I was out seeing a movie for a while and lost track of time :) Thanks for the deets, I’ll check to make sure its all good but that should work yea.’ Then before he can overthink it, he presses send.

Jenna doesn’t seem to mind too much, at least. They exchange a couple of the formal details, before Jake politely excuses himself to go ‘work on homework’ by which he mostly means, ‘go to bed early and try to feel less miserable.

But right as he’s trying—really, honestly _trying_ —to sleep, his phone buzzes.

And it’s been a bad enough day already, but one more piece of bad news seems ready to push him over the edge.

The string of emojis around Christine’s nickname (Chris! With the hamster emoji, the purple heart, and a cartoon sunshine, all on both sides of her name) isn’t enough to lessen the blow when he reads her actual message.

‘Michael talked to Jeremy tonight. Sorry :(‘

‘why are yuo sorry’ comes out of his fingertips before he can even second-guess it. There’s probably a typo somewhere in there, but Jake doesn’t care enough to correct it.

‘Can I call?’

And Jake hesitates over the call button, and before he can make a choice, Christine goes ahead and facetimes him. It takes another second or two before Jake answers, and when he does, his expression is at least an attempt at a smile, even if he doesn’t mean it.

“Hey,” she says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, before coughing into a fist and trying again. “I mean, depending on why the hell you started with ‘sorry.’”

“Ah. Right, sorry. That’s…”

“Don’t stress, just tell me what’s going on, Chris.” He forces a bigger smile, then sits up in his bed, trying to look a little less miserable than he feels. “I’m a big boy, I can take a little bad news.”

“Okay,” she says. “But you didn’t hear it from me, okay? And Jenna can’t know, or Rich, or anyone.”

“Don’t know why I’d share information about my best friend with literally anyone else, but okay. Continue?”

“They got into a fight. Because Jeremy thinks that Michael is mad at him and resents him for what happened and thinks he’s a horrible person.” Christine’s face gets a weird expression, like she’s trying to choke down something particularly sour. “And he got that idea from you, apparently?”

“I literally haven’t spoken to Jeremy in weeks, aside from casual conversation.”

“Okay, but—you do know that I’m in your AP Lit class, too, right?” And the reminder of AP Lit makes Jake cringe, with a sick feeling in his stomach. She must see his expression, because her brows raise. “So you know exactly what I’m talking about then. Jake, I was really hoping you weren’t saying that just to hurt Jeremy’s feelings!”

“I wasn’t saying it to hurt Jeremy’s feelings, I was saying it because it was about Wuthering Heights and she called on me with zero warning and—” Jake cuts himself off for a moment, massaging his forehead with the heel of his hand. “And I know I fucked up, okay, I should’ve just taken a breath and let it go, but I’d just asked Rich to hang out and all I was thinking about was how much I wanted Michael to stop ignoring me now that I’d stopped ignoring Rich, and… just, fuck, can you cut me some slack, Chris?”

Christine furrows her brows, a fine crease forming between them. “Jake, I really want to think you’re a good guy, because every time we hang out you’re awesome, and sweet, and thoughtful. But…”

“But I fucked up, and I keep fucking up, I know. I know, okay?”

She sighs, then adjusts her phone, giving a new angle of her face and room. She’s quiet for a little while, and Jake can tell she’s mulling over something pretty hard. He’s tempted to hang up, but he restrains himself just long enough for her to finally speak up again.

“I’m not trying to make you defensive,” she finally says. “I guess I’m just kind of worn out, because Michael and Jeremy went to me first, and your name kept popping up, and it’s just…” She shakes her head. “It’s frustrating, because I …I really want them to work out.”

“Why?”

Jake isn’t prepared for that word to come out of his mouth, but yet, there it is.

“Why do I want them together?” When Jake silently nods, Christine fondly shakes her head. “I don’t know. Because they’re my friends?” And shit, that makes him wince for a second, before she takes pity on him and continues. “Maybe because they made each other so happy at first. Or because Jeremy broke up with me partly because he liked Michael. So I guess… if they’re together, then it means a little more.”

“But that’s not my fault if they’re having issues, Chris.” Jake pulls his knees to his chest, leaning heavily against the pillows at the back of his bed. He rubs under his eyes, feeling absolutely wrung out from so many emotions today. “I… I just like making Michael happy. And it feels like… Michael and Jeremy don’t make each other that happy anymore.”

“Relationships aren’t just about being happy together, though. You know?”

Jake looks up at the ceiling, lips pursing. “Yeah, sometimes they’re just too convenient to leave.”

“They’re _supposed_ to make you feel better about yourself, and make you into a better person.” Her tone is a little disapproving of his cynicism, and Jake regrets being sarcastic. However, she soon gets quiet, thinking about her words. “And I get that you don’t think they make each other into better people. And I get why you think that. But…”

“But you also haven’t heard much from Michael. All you’re hearing is how much Jeremy likes Michael. But just because he says it doesn’t mean he’s acting on it!” Jake doesn’t mean to sound so passionate, but it comes out anyways, and he lets out a frustrated sigh before rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I’m sorry. Shit. ‘m sorry. I don’t want to snap at you, it’s just… It’s just been a really bad day.”

Christine looks at him for a while, a sympathetic look on her face. “You really like Michael, don’t you?”

He’s surprised to find just how much his chest feels like it’s caving in when he hears those words. “I don’t even care that I like him anymore,” he says honestly, a surprising lump in his throat. “I just _miss_ him. I hate that he isn’t really talking to me anymore. How am I supposed to be okay with Jeremy basically pressuring Michael to choose him over me? I’m fine just being friends, and it’s shitty that Jeremy expects him to stop being friends with me just ‘cause he’s feeling territorial.”

“Jake…”

“It’s fine, okay, it’s fine,” he says. Then, he clears his throat and forces a laugh. “It’s been a really long day, okay? I’m just… I was already in bed. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep early.”

“But I haven’t even said exactly what—”

“I’m not sure I actually want to know anymore,” he says. And yeah, he’s cutting her off, and yeah, he feels a little bad about it, but he’s not sure he can actually take any more bad news. Maybe he thought he could, when he answered—but he can’t. Then, seeing that pitying look in her eyes again, he pointedly looks away from his phone. “Just- goodnight, Chris. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

“Okay, Jake,” she says. “Sorry. Get some sleep, okay? I can fill you in tomorrow.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything more before disconnecting. Then he plugs in his phone, lies down on his side, and tries desperately to go to sleep instead of overthinking this.

It takes another hour, but he falls asleep at eight, catching up on much-needed sleep—even if none of this other problems get solved.


	7. i never fell before

“I need a favor.”

At the cafeteria, mid-way through lunch, with conversation going on around them, Jake hopes he won’t be overheard by anyone except who he’s talking to, which means that his voice is a little quieter than usual. Fortunately, Jenna seems to hear, since she looks up at Jake from her phone. There’s surprise in her eyes, especially with the way his hand is on her arm. “What sort of favor?” she asks, and Jake remembers a beat too late that Jenna’s used to being used for gossip-related favors.

(Including but not limited to spreading fake rumors, real rumors, and pleas for her not to spread a rumor about someone.)

“I got a late slip the other day, and my parents are both out of town right now,” he says as he withdraws his hand. He fidgets with his fork, stabbing some overcooked peas that he has no intention of actually eating. “Do you think you could pretend to be my mom? I just need you to say that you talked to me about the importance of being on time.”

She frowns, just a little. “Don’t they keep a record of what phone someone’s calling from?”

Jake winces. “Shit.”

“Hey, relax, relax. You can always say your parents’ old landline burned down with the fire, right? And maybe your mom also got a new cell phone recently and forgot to put the new one on file.”

“But they’d still recognize the number as mine or yours if they looked into it at all,” he says, stomach sinking. “I—nevermind, I, uh—it’ll be okay, don’t worry. Forget I asked, Jen, sorry for bugging you.”

“What’s going on?”

Jake winces when he hears a new voice, and feels his face get hot when he realizes that it’s Michael of all people tuning in. “Hey, Michael,” he says a beat too late, managing an uncomfortable smile.

He hates that he feels uncomfortable looking at someone who means so much to him. But it hurts that he hasn’t had a chance to talk to what’s supposed to be his new best friend in weeks. Not about anything important, anyways, and that’s no way to spend a friendship.

And with Christine’s conversation last night, Jake’s not feeling too enthusiastic about anything, let alone the cause of his anxiety.

Whatever ‘I’m sorry’ was about, it can’t be good.

“ _Hey_ , Jake,” Michael says, in a tone of voice that makes it clear he thinks it’s funny, that Jake’s saying ‘hey’ when they’re already sitting next to each other. “So, _what’s_ going on?”

“Jake got a late slip,” Jenna says, like the traitor she is. “I’m supposed to pose as his mom, ‘cause I got a similar voice to her, but my cell phone and Jake’s are both on file, so it’d be suspicious if we called.”

Michael opens his mouth to say something, then closes it in a slightly grim line. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Jake pokes at his peas again, face guilty as can be. “I guess I’ll just… take the detention or whatever. It’s not a big deal. Thanks for trying.”

Jenna gives him a sympathetic pat on his hand before starting to return to her phone. But Michael pipes back up before any of them can let the conversation totally die.

“Only one of my moms is listed as an official guardian, since I was only legally adopted by one of them,” he says mildly. “What if I could get you her phone just long enough to make a call?”

There’s a funny feeling in Jake’s stomach, and he instantly flashes back to that first day they became friends, when Michael gave him a lift to his physical therapy appointment. And he’s reminded of just how much he misses _that_ Michael. The one who made him feel welcome, and who was willing to set aside time for him even when he could have easily looked the other way.

“You’d really try and do that for me?” he asks, and the tone is a little too hushed and reverent to be casual. Jake clears his throat, then tries again. “I mean—you don’t have to, man.”

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Jenna, would you be able to come over later? You ‘n Jake both? We could probably get it done in like fifteen minutes, no big. My nanay’s off in the afternoons and she’d be down to help.”

It’s a kind of pathetic reminder that Michael’s got an awesome relationship with his parents, and they’d be willing to do pretty much anything for him. Envy settles into Jake’s stomach, followed quickly by guilt, because he shouldn’t envy Michael.

And fuck, if he gets any more feelings about Michael in addition to his crush and how much he misses him, Jake’s pretty sure he’s going to _actually_ go crazy.

“I could come over for a bit, sure. Beats riding the bus home, I’m like, always the last stop.” Jenna grins. “Jake, that good with you?”

“Good. Great, actually. Thanks, man,” he says, mostly to Michael, then remembers that uh, duh, Jenna is a big part of this, too, and grins at her. “Thanks both of you.”

“Add it to the favors you owe me,” Jenna teases, then goes back to her phone, either busy texting or playing Candy Crush, but either way, he’s not gonna bug her more than he needs to.

And then it’s quiet again. Or, well, quiet as it can be at their lunch table. Jeremy and Christine are talking about a homework assignment—probably for AP Lit—and Brooke, Chloe, and Rich are going over weekend plans. With Jenna on her phone, that pretty much just leaves Jake and Michael without a conversation partner, and…

And Jake’s not sure how to broach that, even though it’s clear that Michael’s hedging his conversation bets, since he isn’t reaching for his headphones.

Odds are that he’ll go for Jeremy and Christine, even if he’s not even in AP Lit with them.

(Conflicted with his AP Chem class, apparently, of which he’s one of only five students. His main goal is to understand chemistry enough to get the recipe perfect for Mountain Dew Red and then distribute it to high schools that didn’t get as lucky as Middleborough.)

But Jake kind of selfishly hopes that Michael would be willing to talk, since there’s literally nothing stopping them.

“So, uh,” Jake starts, moving his knee just a little so it bumps into Michael’s. “Are we still on for script-writing this weekend…?”

And Michael looks like a deer in headlights, which is the opposite of what Jake was hoping for. Because damn, that was literally the safest topic he could think of, and Michael is still startled.

Then Michael’s face goes sympathetic, which is _infinitely_ worse. “Christine didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, no? Why would Christine have to tell me something about _our_ weekend plans?”

Michael forces a smile, then glances over to Jeremy and Christine, and it’s possibly the most uncomfortable silence Jake has ever been through, even though it only spans four seconds at the most. There’s facial expressions exchanged, and Jake’s never felt so left out in this group of friends before—in any group of friends, actually.

It kind of makes him want to throw up.

“I’m, um,” Michael finally starts. And he makes an expression a little like he’s swallowing something slimy, which Jake doesn’t know what to make of. “I’m… I won’t, um, be going to—to UCLA. I’m just gonna go to Rutgers for college. No scholarship film needed.”

Jake stares at him for a solid five seconds. And then there’s heat behind his eyes, and they feel a little wetter than he’s comfortable admitting. But he collects himself after those five seconds are up, and finally just looks up to the ceiling. “Right, yeah, okay, that makes sense,” he finally chokes out.

Michael tries to say something, even reaches a hand towards him, but Jake startles and pulls his hand away.

“I’m. I just remembered,” Jake starts, already starting to stand up, “I gotta meet with the Model UN supervisor, there’s—the, I have to go over… notes.”

It’s the worst excuse he’s ever made, and he knows it, and he knows that Michael knows it, too.

Worst of all, there’s a guilty expression on both Jeremy and Christine’s face, and Jake realizes exactly why Christine had apologized to him over text.

Jake’s not equipped to deal with that right now. Possibly not ever, but that might just be the ‘I’m a seventeen year old boy’ hormones talking.

Jake slings his backpack over his shoulder, then gives as friendly a wave as he can manage to everyone else before dumping his tray and walking out.

\--

Jake doesn’t cry when he gets to his favorite, currently-abandoned classroom. It’s where Model UN is usually held after school, and during the school day it’s used for Mr. Drake’s history class, but right now, the only thing that’s happening is Jake, breaking down.

He doesn’t cry, though.

Mostly ‘cause it’d be too loud, and he’s too good at mediating his feelings to let something that vulnerable slip while he’s at school.

No one comes after him, though. Possibly because they don’t know that he’s here, but also probably because half the table doesn’t know something’s wrong and the other half caused it.

A weird part of him wishes that last year were still here, because this never would’ve happened, for one, and for two, Rich probably would’ve helped him out. Granted, now he knows that last year, ‘helping out’ mostly meant Rich being an ass to anyone who didn’t fuckin’ adore Jake. But back then, Jake just thought he had the best friend in the damn world, and finally someone who’d be there for him without a shred of hesitation.

But hey—that’s what parents were for, not best friends. It’s just that Jake’s parents aren’t exactly here.

And on that thought, Jake feels his heart sink. He remembers a beat too late that he and Michael are still supposed to meet up after school to fix Jake’s late slip problem. Part of him thinks that maybe Michael will forget and so will Jenna.

Either way, he’s not going to be the one to bring it up. So when the next bell rings, Jake stands up, tries to chase away his bad mood, and heads to his next class with the best approximation of a smile he can manage.

\--

Michael doesn’t say anything to him for the rest of the day. No texting—which isn’t unusual anymore—and no conversation for the classes they’re in together.

Jake’s starting to think that Michael’s definitely not still interested in helping him after school. But then Jenna adds them both to a group text, and Jake winces at the notification.

It goes off for his phone and Michael’s at the same time, which means that they both pull out their phones in New Jersey State History at the same time, and they glance at each other at the same time, too. Their eyes meet, and Jake’s face freezes in the exact same way Michael does.

Michael glances back to his phone and then up to Jake again. Then he mouths the word, ‘ok?’

And Jake has to swallow down a lump in his throat, lest he cry at school for real this time. But he nods, too, and soon he sees Michael stealth-texting under the table. A text pops up on Jake’s phone saying ‘yea were still on’ and Jake supposes, that’s that.

And if he can’t focus on anything for the rest of class, that’s not exactly something he can control, so he makes his peace with it as best he can.

\--

The drive to Michael’s house is a little awkward. But at least Jake and Michael both have a car of their own, meaning that neither of them actually need to ride together and suffer through a hard conversation.

And normally, Jake would be the one giving Jenna a ride, but she opts to ride with Michael. Probably ‘cause she’s not blind, and she can tell that Jake’s having a day-from-hell for the second day in a row.

And as Jake drives over, he honestly wonders if this is just going to be his life now. Bad day after bad day after bad day. He knows he’s gotta attend a party in two weeks, so that’ll be another bad day—and probably a few bad days afterwards, with people constantly coming up and talking to him about the party, like he wasn’t there and really needs the status update of who did what (or who did who) at his party.

‘His’ party, like it’s not actually being hosted by Jenna.

He wishes he could tell her that she doesn’t need the Dillinger name to have an awesome party of her own. That other people would want to come to her party anyways, even if he’s not there. But he can’t bring himself to intrude on her feelings like that.

Just like he doesn’t want anyone in the SQUIP-Squad talking to him about his issues, he’s not gonna talk to them about theirs. Just because they know each other’s shit, doesn’t mean it’s okay to just bring it up with them.

So he drives in silence, grateful to be alone, and tries to hold himself together.

When he arrives, his only consolation is that Jenna and Michael look like they’ve been a little awkward, too. They clearly made some small-talk, but it’s not like they get out of the car with big grins and laughter; Jake didn’t miss out on much by driving separate.

Jake takes a breath before he gets out of the car. And when he’s out, he knows that he won’t be staying over for long, so he doesn’t bother getting his backpack out of the passenger seat. Instead, he just heads towards his friends, hands in his pockets and an appreciative, tiny smile on his face, even if it’s a little forced.

“So, we ready to break the law?” Jake starts, feeling the folded-up note in his jeans pocket. “’Cause I am if you are.”

“I’m ready to impersonate a middle-aged lady, that’s for sure. What are my lines?”

“We’ll go over it once we’re inside, I think. Can’t trust talking about this outside, you never know where there’ll be police.” Jake gives an exaggerated sweep of his arm across the peaceful suburb. “It’s dangerous.”

“If there were police I would’ve gotten in trouble a long time ago for weed.” Michael’s lips twitch up into a smile, then he leads their trio into his house, giving a quick, “Nanay, I’m home!” as he opens the door. There’s an indistinct—or perhaps foreign—response from a room further back, and Michael responds with something similar-sounding, reminding Jake that Michael often doesn’t speak English at home.

Jake used to tell the Mells that he was here with Michael, introducing himself or at least announcing that Michael was here with someone other than Heere. But this time, he just lets Michael lead the way, head down and hands still in his pockets as Michael heads deep into the house. Then he motions for them to stay put and disappears into a bedroom Jake’s never gone into.

It’s strange, knowing that other kids his age are totally cool stepping foot into their parents’ room. Jake had never been able to do it himself, unless it was absolutely necessary (like keeping someone from having sex on his parents’ bed, like, what the fuck).

Jenna and Jake stand around for a bit, looking out of place while they wait.

“So… my lines?”

Jake snaps out of it and shakes his head. “Right. Right. Um, I dunno, just… pretend to be my mom?”

“Okay, but like—how does she normally talk? If she was gonna get you excused from this thing, what would she say, you know? Like, if the people on the school’s side of it are expecting her to sound a certain way, or…”

“She hasn’t called the school in like, ages. Not since freshman year, I think, when I was legit just getting registered for Middleborough and all that.” Jake looks away. “I haven’t, um, like, missed much class or anything. And I always forged signatures for field trips and stuff. And I always got like, my own flu stuff turned in.”

Jenna furrows her brows. “You, uh…”

There’s a question in her voice on why Jake needs to do all that himself instead of letting his parents handle it, and Jake is very, _very_ quick to deflect.

“Look, basically it doesn’t matter how you talk, just sound like… how moms are supposed to talk when they’re on the phone with important-ish people. Formal. Like. ‘Hi, this is Tarah Dillinger, my son, Jake, came in with a… it says it’s a late form?’” He did the best impression of his mother’s voice that he could remember, but to be honest, he couldn’t remember the cadence of her voice all that well anymore. “’I talked with him about why he was late, and he promised to make getting to class on time a priority. And, if he doesn’t, I’ll ground him. Will he still be attending detention next Thursday, or is this sufficient?’”

Whatever Jenna was going to say before, it seems that Jake’s high-pitched mom-speak was enough to make her lose her train of thought. Which is good, because Jake’s not a huge fan of people knowing what he’s going through. Much better to just entertain them and make them laugh instead. And she does, lightly punching his arm to boot. “No wonder you were decent at acting in the play.”

“Acting in the _rehearsals_ ,” Jake corrects. “The play, damn, that was…”

“Yeah.” Jenna laughs a little awkwardly. “Sorry for… kind of causing a lot of it.”

“What?”

“I was—you know. The only one to be turned outside of the play, aside from Rich and Jeremy. I should’ve…”

“We’re so far past ‘should’ve’ it’s crazy,” Jake says lightly. “Don’t sweat it, Jen. You weren’t the only one turned.”

“But I chose it, same as Rich and Jeremy, and no one gives me shit for it. Not the way they got it. No one even realized… People at school barely even realized that I was different, they just noticed me a little more, and—”

Jake realizes with a start that this is the first time they’re discussing a SQUIP Squad member’s insecurities outside of the hive mind. It’s _jarring_. And his heart goes out to her, hearing it out loud. But he’s not really equipped for feelings right now. “And nothing,” he cuts in, moving to put his hand on her shoulders. “We forgave Rich and Jeremy and they caused way more damage. You’re not to blame for anything, okay? You wanted it to fix things, we all did.”

“You guys were SQUIP’d at the play, completely without your choice.” Jenna’s expression takes on a sad edge, like she’s starting to regret bringing it up. “…It’s different. And I can’t talk to Jeremy or Rich about it, but—my… my experience was different, you know? I had it for more than twenty minutes, but it didn’t take over my life quite the same way, even if it took it over a little.”

“Jenna, we… We all had slightly different experiences.” Jake thinks about how SQUIPs affected him directly and indirectly, and how his experience isn’t the same as anyone else’s either. After all, no one else had to lose a house. “We… Just because you were the only one in-between, doesn’t mean…”

“I wasn’t SQUIP’d at all, and you guys still keep me around. So, uh, I think you’re good, Jen.”

Jake and Jenna turn to see Michael coming towards them, a phone in his hands. “Michael,” Jake says, a small smile on his face. “Hey—sorry, we were, um…”

“I heard like literally half of it coming back this way, you’re lucky my nanay was too busy on her laptop with her weird folk music to hear.” Still, Michael’s wearing a smile, and Jake knows the teasing is harmless. “So I, uh, have the phone. Jenna, are you okay to pretend to be Jake’s mom?”

“Who’s pretending?” she asks, punching his arm lightly.

Jake mock-rubs it. “If there’s an opening, I’ll let you know.”

And he knows that Jenna knows that his parents are gone. Everyone in the SQUIP-Squad does, even if no one talks about it. (Just like they don’t talk about Rich’s dad, or Jenna’s insecurities.) But he hopes that she’s not poking fun at it, exactly. He’s not ready to talk about it openly, let alone make fun of it.

Michael clears his throat, effectively saving face for both Jake and Jenna. “So. Let’s dial the number and get this show on the road, huh?”

With that, Jake nods and puts in the school’s office number, hoping that the secretary is still there—otherwise this whole operation will be a bust. But after one, two, three rings, someone picks up, and he thrusts the phone at Jenna, along with the late slip.

“Middleborough High School, Edith speaking. How can I help you?”

“Yes, hello,” Jenna says, and Jake can hear the burgeoning adult in her voice. He hopes it’s convincing enough. “This is—”

“Tarah Dillinger,” Jake whispers.

“This is Tarah Dillinger, mother of Jake Dillinger? He brought home a late slip the other day, and I wanted to let you know that it’s been taken care of.”

“A late slip for what date?” Edith asks, sounding bored, which makes Jake think they’re a hell of a lot more likely to get away with this.

“Tuesday. Yesterday.”

Edith clicks her tongue, likely searching the school records. “Thank you, Ms. Dillinger. Did you follow the procedure on the back?”

Jenna flips the slip over, scanning it for important information. “I spoke to him about the importance of punctuality. My son is in a number of prestigious clubs and I plan for him to get into Princeton, so of course I spoke to him about being on time from now on. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“Thank you, Ms. Dillinger.” There’s the sound of typing in the background. “I’ll clear the record for now, but if he gets another slip, he’ll be attending detention whether you speak to him about it or not.” There’s a pause, and the three students wait around the phone with baited breath. But then, instead of ‘goodbye, have a nice day,’ Edith’s voice comes back over the line. “It looks like you’re calling from a number we don’t have on file… Did you change your phone number recently?”

“Yes, the landline burned down with the house,” Jenna says, with the tiniest bit of an attitude in her voice. Jake tries not to feel panicked. Can adults hear the ‘teenager’ in teenagers’ voices, or is that just a myth? “And I happened to change my cell phone a year or so back. I forgot to update it with the school.”

“Would you like me to update it now, with the one you’re calling with?”

Jake’s eyes get big, and he looks between Michael and Jenna, frozen on what to do. But before he can decide, Michael puts an arm around Jake’s shoulders and gently rubs his arm. Michael nods at Jenna, effectively making an executive decision where Jake can’t.

“Yes, actually. The number is…” Jenna starts. Then, Michael holds up his fingers to read the ten digits (area code included) that comprise his nanay’s cell phone number. Once it’s done, Jenna covers her mouth to let out a sigh of relief. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Only that Jake has had some fine Model UN meets lately,” Edith says, and Jake’s honestly floored that a school secretary knows about those. “It’s a shame you haven’t been able to attend.”

“Yes, well,” Jenna says, side-eyeing Jake with a question in her eyes. “I’ve had a lot of business trips lately, with my husband. But Jakey tells us about his meets when he gets home from school.  Our son is very independent, but I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. Will that be all?”

“Yes, yes, Ms. Dillinger,” Edith says, actually sounding a little cowed. “Thank you for calling, and have a nice evening.”

With that, they hear a dial tone, and Jake’s pretty sure his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“I can’t believe the school secretary’s name is Edith.”

“I can’t believe she knows about Jake’s Model UN debates.”

Jake swallows something like a lump in his throat. And then he feels his stomach sink, taking in the full weight of that conversation. “I can’t believe your mom,” he says towards Michael, who’s still rubbing his arm, “is now the person they’ll call if I ever get in trouble.”

“Shit.” Jenna looks guilty, and opens her mouth to apologize, but Michael cuts her off.

“Relax, it’s better than having an unreachable number,” Michael says. And Jake’s kind of glad for that one, if he’s being honest, because he was a little nervous they’d try to reach his parents and only hear the ‘this number has been disconnected’ operator voice. “Besides, my moms know what’s, uh—they know the deal, and even if they didn’t, they’re good with rolling with the punches. They’ll pretend to be Jake’s mom if worst comes to worst.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

It’s probably the only good news Jake has heard in weeks. He hasn’t had parents (or even fake parents) for the school to talk to in months, which made it a living nightmare to take off time from school for physical therapy. He’s lucky that his school trusts his doctors notes, because if they’d needed a parental signature, then Jake would’ve been SOL while he was healing.

It feels like a weight’s been taken off Jake’s shoulders, even if it’s been the week from hell (and it’s only Wednesday).

Still, he comes back to himself when he realizes he’s being watched.

Jenna is looking at the two of them pretty intently, and seems to be taking in the way that Michael’s holding onto Jake. “I think,” she finally says, interrupting the steady back-and-forth measure of Michael’s hand on Jake’s arm, “that I’ll actually walk home. I figure Jake’s staying over for a little while since you guys are close ‘n all?”

Jake opens his mouth to say something—anything—whether it’s to disagree or agree or correct her. But Michael talks instead, unable or unwilling to give Jake the chance to correct her assumptions.

“Are you sure? I can have my nanay drive you.”

“Thanks but no thanks, my house is like… two streets away. I think I’ll manage.” Jenna smiles a little. “See you guys. It’s been fun.”

Jake nods, then breaks away from Michael just long enough to pull her in for a quick hug. “Thanks for helping me,” he says, voice genuine and a little too soft. “And… look, I’m not great with the—feelings thing. But it’s okay if you wanna talk about… SQUIP stuff. I’m here for you.”

It’s not what he’s expecting to say, and it’s not what she’s expecting to hear, but she doesn’t argue. Instead she pulls back and gives him a lopsided smile. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she replies. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

With that, she heads out, leaving Michael and Jake alone in the living room.

They stand there for a solid two minutes, not saying a word, until Michael finally sits down on the couch and motions for Jake to do the same.

“So,” Michael starts.

“Rutgers.”

Predictably, Michael winces. “I thought Christine told you, when she called you last night.”

“I had a bad day and told her to save the bad news for tomorrow. I figured the bad news was gonna be something else, not… that.” Jake swallows thickly, then looks away from Michael. “Just… I really want to know, man. Why? I thought…”

“I know, I know. I… I really _was_ passionate, about UCLA, and- and film school.” And Michael says it with such wistfulness that it makes Jake kind of want to cry. “But… I don’t know. The, the admission rate into UCLA is like, I don’t know, 18%. Maybe less? I mean, higher for out of state, which is what I’d be, but it’d also be insanely expensive, and… I, I don’t know. I just—I figured, it’d be… And my grades aren’t exactly the best, so… It’d probably be a little”

Jake looks at him, looks at the way he’s shrunk his arms into his sleeves and he’s gripping the elastic band of his sleeves with all he’s got.

And even though Jake feels a little like he’s drowning, he moves to sit by Michael, anyways. He puts an arm around him, much like Michael did for him just moments ago.

“It’d probably be a little what?” he asks quietly.

“It’d be a little impossible.”

Jake sighs, then gently rubs a hand up and down Michael’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’d just, like… Logistically, it seems like it’d just be better to stay with Jeremy and go to Rutgers. Christine wants it, Jeremy wants it, my parents probably want it. It’d be so expensive to go to UCLA anyways, you know, so it’s… it’s just better, to go to Rutgers.”

Jake’s brows crinkle between his brows. “And does Rutgers have a halfway decent film program? One that’d like, actually get you connected with the people you need?”

Michael swallows audibly. “Jake, you know that’s not fair. There’s _nothing_ in New Jersey.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why you were considering anything but New Jersey,” Jake says. “C’mon, man, what’s this about? I thought you had dreams ‘n shit?”

Michael goes quiet for a while, then finally he takes off his glasses to rub under his eyes. “I just want everything to work out so perfect, you know? I—I fought so hard to get with Jeremy, to do everything right, to get my future in order. And… And it’s like, he just doesn’t… It’s not that he’s against me doing film, it’s just that he doesn’t want me leaving him to go elsewhere, and the film I want to make is his least favorite thing ever and he wouldn’t be able to watch it without getting anxious as hell, and I just—I can’t do that to him.”

And Jake gets it, he really does, but of all the people involved here, he’s pretty sure that Jeremy Heere has the least amount of abandonment issues of everyone.

“Michael, I’m not gonna tell you to leave him or anything, ‘cause that’s super not my place,” Jake says hesitantly. “But… like, the first time we really talked, you were already talking about how you weren’t expecting it to last. That’s… Dude, that’s not something people do when they’re happy and in love.”

And apparently that’s all it takes to break Michael, because he turns fully towards Jake, and pulls him into a hug.

They don’t say anything for a while. Not when it seems like Michael’s on the verge of tears.

But finally, Michael shifts, face in a position where he can talk again. “I don’t think I can work on the script for a while, my head’s too much of a mess anyways,” Michael says, cheek pressed hard against Jake’s shoulder. It’s not exactly what Jake wants to hear, but at this point, he’ll take what he can get. He rubs his hand up and down Michael’s back a little more gently, hoping it’s not too obvious how much he’s enjoying the contact, even if he’s not enjoying the context half as much.

“You’re just doing your best with a bad situation, man, happens to us all,” he says. “You gonna be okay?”

“Probably.” Michael nods. “But Christine and Jeremy are both saying I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

And, ouch—even Christine?

Rational, sweet, supposedly-on-no-one’s-side Christine?

“Any, uh, reason she gave you for that?”

Surprisingly, Michael shakes his head ‘no’. Or at least, Jake thinks it’s a no, considering Michael’s face is still burrowed in Jake’s shoulder. “They just kinda said that you wanted other stuff, compared to what they want. But like. I don’t know. You’re not like trying to force me into anything and you’re the only one that’s like, totally onboard with my film, and it’s just…”

“It’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

Michael lets out a shuddering sigh. Then he pulls away, eyes looking suspiciously glassy. Jake reluctantly withdraws his hand from Michael’s back, and the two of them just sit on the couch next to each other, both at a loss for words.

It’s quiet for a bit, and Jake mulls over whatever it is he can say. Because even if it’s not a decision Jake loves, it’s still Michael’s decision to make, and if he wants to give up on his dreams, then that’s Michael’s prerogative.

But Jake’s still got other things on his mind that he can talk about—things he’s been meaning to say for a while now.

“I’m sorry for walking away at lunch,” comes out instead of all the other things that Jake wants to get off his chest. “I just—I thought, when you said you weren’t doing the, the script anymore, then that just meant you didn’t ever want to see me again, basically.”

Michael’s expression goes to one of shock, and he stares at Jake openly. “You really think I’d just ditch you like that?”

“Well—we… you’ve been super distant lately, man.” Jake withdraws into himself a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “What was I supposed to think?”

There’s a lot he could add to that—a lot he wants to add to it. Like, ‘my parents up and left without more than a day’s warning, so I figure if they can, anyone can.’ Or, ‘my old best friend burned my house down so honestly this was like, a step in the right direction as far as friendship-breakups go.’ But nothing comes out. All Jake is feeling are genuine emotions, and that’s a hell of a lot harder to express than sarcasm.

But Michael doesn’t say anything for a while, and Jake is tempted to just make an excuse to leave.

Finally, though, after almost a full two minutes of silence, Michael speaks up.

“I don’t ever want to abandon a friend,” he says, voice earnest. And when Jake still doesn’t look at him, Michael gently takes hold of his shoulder, coaxing Jake’s upper body in Michael’s general direction. “Hey. I mean it, man. Why else would I have helped you so quick at lunch if I didn’t care?”

“Because it was a nice thing to do and you’re a good person?”

Michael laughs, just a little. “Wow, look at me, the extrovert who can do random acts of kindness for people I don’t care about,” he says, making little jazz hands. And Jake can’t help it—he laughs. It seems to make Michael feel better, hearing his laugh, so Michael continues on with new drive. “Come on, dude, if I wanted to cut you off, I could’ve super easily. I literally wore headphones for all of freshman and sophomore years purely to avoid talking to people I didn’t want to talk to. You think I couldn’t have just openly blocked you out if I didn’t like you anymore?”

Jake’s still got the beginnings of a smile on his face, even if the sick feeling in his stomach hasn’t gone away. “But the only thing we’ve talked about lately has been the script, and you’ve basically avoided any deeper subject than, like, fun movies and video games lately. I…” He pauses, biting his lip as he thinks it over. “I don’t want to be like, shallow friends with you, you know? Not when what we had before was so much better.”

There’s a guilty look on Michael’s face, and Jake knows he isn’t just imagining it, even if it quickly flickers away to a more sympathetic expression. “I know,” Michael admits. “I was just… I didn’t want Jeremy getting mad at me, thinking I was emotionally cheating on him or whatever.”

“Emotionally cheating?”

“It’s totally a thing.”

“It totally isn’t,” Jake argues. “Like, otherwise I would’ve been cheating on every girl I ever dated with like, Rich.”

Michael gives him a long look, which Jake matches. But finally he breaks and asks, “Okay, uh, explain?”

“You really think I like, opened up to girlfriends about deep shit? No way,” Jake says with a laugh. “Like—dude, it’s super weird that people try to get like, one person in their life and then dump everything onto them and only them forever. It’s fucked up, like, especially if they expect you not to have any other friends, or to like, automatically put them above literally everyone else forever. I, like, vaguely opened up to Christine on accident and she spent the rest of our relationship calling me out on my bullshit. Probably necessary, but like, that’s the exact thing I was trying to avoid with every, uh, other relationship I had.”

Michael tilts his head to the side. “Um…”

“It sounds super unromantic, dude, I know, but—okay. Hear me out. Like, relationships didn’t used to be super—romantic? Like you used to have a few best friends but like, also your main squeeze, and that was super rad ‘cause you weren’t putting all your problems on your wife or husband or whoever. They were there for like, yeah, some romantic and sex stuff, but you had other friends too. Now it’s like… you’re supposed to find The One and they gotta be everything, including your therapist? No way.”

“That’s, uh…” Michael purses his lips for a second. “I guess… I just don’t like, totally… I mean, my moms have a lot of other friends, too,” he admits. “And they hang out with people separate. But like. They … also go to each other first.” He pauses. “Anyways, it’s kind of—always been me and Jeremy? Just us?”

“And that’s not exactly the healthiest.”

Michael looks like he wants to argue, but he seems to stuff that argument down deep inside instead. Jake feels the tiniest bit of defensiveness cropping up inside himself, so he barrels on ahead.  

“Putting all your eggs in one basket means that when something goes wrong, you’ve got nowhere else to go. And that… It’s bad, man. Even if I’m dating someone I really like, which like, hasn’t happened since Christine, I still gotta have other people I like, otherwise I get stir-crazy, and I get like, kinda burned out on that one person, you feel me?”

“You’ve explained plenty, yeah,” Michael says, which really isn’t a yes or a no. “I don’t know. I get where you’re coming from, it’s just… different, I guess, when you’ve had a best friend for as long as I have, and then you end up dating your best friend. It’d be like, if you were dating Rich, you know?” He sees the expression Jake makes, then backtracks a little. “Like dating the Rich that was super close to you. The one where you were putting all your eggs in his basket, if you know what I mean.”

It could almost be an innuendo, so Jake lightly smacks Michael’s arm, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, okay, fine. But I guess I’d be kinda nervous doing that, is all.”

“’Cause it’s Rich?”

“’Cause it’s scary as fuck dating someone who knows things about you.”

Michael’s brows raise. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“I mean—I would, if it was the right… like, if I really liked the person, and they knew shit about me,” he says, mostly because this is Michael asking, and Jake likes Michael, and if Michael returns his feelings, Jake doesn’t want him thinking that Jake can’t date him. … Even if it’s scary. “But I’d be nervous dating someone who knows stuff. Like. People can hold that stuff against you, you know? It’s scary as shit.” It’s the first time he’s really understood it about himself, saying it aloud. “I only, like, told Rich a lot of this stuff, you know? And it’s—that didn’t, uh, turn out so good.”

“So you put all your eggs in a _friendship_ basket and it tanked anyways, even without dating him.” Michael gives him a sort of flat look as he says it, and Jake realizes he’s being called out. Michael continues on anyways. “…I think we probably both have some bad ideas about this stuff, no offense.”

“None taken, ‘s long as you’re admitting it for you, too.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

The two of them go quiet again, at least for a little while, and Jake finds himself staring out the front window for a bit. It’s nice, being in Michael’s house again, even if they’ve mostly just been talking about serious things that Jake usually avoids as much as possible.

But it’s a conversation that needed to happen. And for the first time in a long time, Jake feels good about his friendship with Michael.

Michael’s still dating Jeremy, and it looks like that might not ever change, if Michael’s honestly willing to give up his dreams just to stay with him. But at least Michael’s not literally choosing Jeremy over Jake permanently, and cutting Jake out of his life.

If he’s being honest, Jake probably couldn’t take being abandoned again. So it’s… good, that Michael isn’t.

But right as Jake’s starting to feel good, and just when he’s thinking about suggesting a movie or a Mario Kart match, he sees a figure in the window, and then hears a knock on the door.

And even though it was just a flash of a cardigan and brown hair, he knows instinctively who’s at the door.

“Jeremy,” Michael says aloud, and then checks his phone, where there’s about five new messages, all from the same person.

He’s got panic in his eyes that shouldn’t be there, for a guy who’s supposed to just be _friends_ with Jake when his boyfriend drops by unexpectedly. But Jake gets it, especially since, well. As much as neither him or Michael are admitting their feelings, he knows that everyone involved can sense at least a little bit of the tension.

So he moves a little away from Michael, and watches as his friend goes to answer the door.

Jeremy’s probably already seen Jake’s car in the driveway, anyways. There’s no point in hiding.

He just hopes it won’t be a confrontation.

When Michael opens the door and invites Jeremy in, though, there’s no mistaking the look in Jeremy’s eyes. He’s insecure and it shows in the way he rubs his upper arm, and how much he’s avoiding looking at Jake. But he looks upset and a little hurt, and definitely a little angry.

Whatever happens next, Jake’s definitely not looking forward to it. Still, he’s gotta at least try to be the bigger man. So he stands, walks up to Jeremy, and holds out a hand for a fistbump. “What’s up?”

Jeremy looks between Jake and Michael, then returns the fist-bump, if just barely—probably just good old fashioned uncoordination or nervousness. “Just here to hang out with my boyfriend,” he says, stuttering a little over ‘boyfriend’ despite putting emphasis on it. “We were gonna study together.”

“Rad. I was just on my way out,” Jake says. And there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment in Michael’s eyes when he says it, which shouldn’t make Jake feel this good, but it _does_. “Later, guys. I’ve got homework and half a bag of totino’s waiting for me.”

It feels like a power move when he backs away and starts for the door. Even if he’s the one exiting, it’s on his terms, and with Michael wanting him to stay. Maybe it’s a little mean to leave Jeremy feeling threatened, but hey—Jake’s not the one trying to crush Michael’s dreams.

Just as Jake’s crossing the doorway, though, Michael pipes up. “I’ll text you about hanging out this weekend,” he says, in an honest-to-god, just friendly tone of voice. It puts a smile on Jake’s face, too—the most genuine smile he’s had in ages. “It won’t be scriptwriting, but we’ve got lots of shit we can do, right?”

“Right.” Jake makes finger-guns at Michael, then waves, and finishes his walk to the car.

The door closes before he can see Jeremy’s expression or make out how he feels about all this. But even though Jake knows he shouldn’t compare, and even though he knows he shouldn’t feel like this is a victory…

He’s also a seventeen year old boy with a crush, and it feels good, knowing that Michael still cares enough to hang out—even when Jeremy doesn’t support it.

So yeah—

For the first time in weeks, Jake Dillinger feels like he’s finally on the right track again.

He hopes it’ll last.


	8. 3 2 1, you get right up

Jake catches popcorn in his mouth when Michael throws it at him while they’re watching ‘Dave Built a Maze’ at Michael’s house.

It’s probably the most athletic Jake’s been all week. Now that physical therapy has been over for a while, it’s been totally on Jake to take care of his own activity level, and.

Well.

Not being in sports makes it sort of hard. Gym memberships cost money, and Jake’s dead inside about finances. Sure, his situation isn’t dire, but he doesn’t really want to fuck over future him more than he absolutely has to. College is going to be expensive, no denying that, and he’s going to have to work and take out loans already, and…

Honestly, fuck, does he even _want_ to go to college?

He chews on the popcorn kernel with an approximation of a smile, easily taken out of his future-Jake-Dillinger thoughts when Michael speaks up.

“So, uh, how’d you like the movie?” Michael asks, in the tone of voice that suggests that that was one of Michael’s favorite movies and Jake probably should’ve been taking notes or something. He didn’t, obviously, but he did pay attention, if for no other reason than Michael looked like a damn puppy when he suggested this movie.

“Awesome. Super fuckin’ creative,” he says, and takes another handful of popcorn that he probably shouldn’t be eating given his abysmally low activity level. “You said, like, Dave Built a Maze was your inspiration for the, uh… What we were working on?”

“You remembered that?” Michael asks with a smile that looks a little pinched at the corners. They’re both quiet for a second, as Jake bites back the too-romantic phrase ‘I try to remember everything you tell me’ and Michael probably fills it in anyways. Then he continues, “Um. Anyways, it, uh, yeah. It’s also just a fuckin’ awesome movie.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Jake flicks a piece of popcorn at Michael, who doesn’t catch it in his mouth, but does catch it in his fingers before popping it in his mouth. “I see why you’d like, wanna do something similar.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment, because there’s really nothing to say to that, or the abandoned project.

As the silence hangs between them, Jake takes advantage of it to adjust his position on the couch so he can lie down. He stretches out his legs, letting a hand rest over his stomach, and looks up at the ceiling as opposed to Michael. Then he throws caution to the wind and asks, “So, you got any other script projects?”

“What?”

Michael sounds actually startled, which sucks, but Jake stands by his point. “You know, other projects,” Jake clarifies. “Back when we were like first hanging out you said that you were the one that made Shakespeare into a Zombie thing, and that it wasn’t anywhere close to your best work, which like, y’know, means you work on other stuff too.” When Michael doesn’t take advantage of Jake’s pause to answer him, Jake adds, “I also, like, totally wanna read your other stuff, by the way. You can’t just make that kinda claim without telling a guy what else you got.”

“You… want to read my stuff?”

“Well, yeah?” Jake sits up enough to look at his friend, and nudges Michael’s thigh with his foot. “Of course I wanna read your stuff. It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Michael’s face looks the tiniest bit pink, and Jake tries not to stare too hard at it. “I haven’t shown anyone that, outside of Jeremy,” he says, and puts a hand up to his face. “Fuck, it’s probably so bad, dude, you wouldn’t like it.”

“Um? Excuse me, I think of _Sharknado_ as a cinematographic classic,” Jake says. “Literally there is no way I’ll think your scripts are bad, especially since I know yours are way fuckin’ better than Sharknado. Like—I’ve worked on this shit with you before, dude, you really think I wouldn’t have told you if you were bad at it?”

Michael makes some kind of noise, which Jake identifies as either embarrassed or frustrated. “Yeah, but like, you’re also probably the most easygoing person I know.”

Jake pops a kernel of popcorn into the air, and then catches it with his own mouth. “I mean. Probably true, but also… You _are_ good at what you do. You’ve been doin’ it for ages. Even if some of your earlier stuff wasn’t amazing-amazing, it’s still, like… how you got to where you are, right?”

“…Right,” Michael says, looking to the side. Then, after a beat, “Fine. But like… if you wanna make fun of it that’s fine, too, ‘n all.”

“I mean, that is an option, but I’m like… also not going to, when it’s yours.” Jake nudges Michael’s thigh again. “Did, like… someone make fun of it?”

“Well, a lot of people called the play last year ‘the worst thing they’d ever seen’ and I’m pretty sure Christine called it a crime against Shakespeare…”

“He’s been dead a thousand years, dude.”

“Definitely _not_ a thousand, he lived in like, the 1300s.”

“The _point_ is,” Jake counters, “That you also said it wasn’t your best work and you wrote it in like a week. I wanna see your other stuff, stuff you liked doing better. So no need to get all flustered, dude.” A thought comes to Jake, then he can’t help but ask, “Did like…. Like, did Jeremy make fun of it or something when you showed it to him?”

Michael raises both brows. “Uh, no. Not at all. Honestly I think he gushed a little too much, made me think it was better than it was…”

It’s not often that Jake thinks positive things about Jeremy Heere—or at least, it’s been a while. But he feels a little better, now, knowing that at least Jeremy’s been good with Michael’s dreams and hobbies in the past.

“Being someone who doesn’t know Jeremy that well, I can neither confirm nor deny the appropriate level of gushing that your boyfriend did,” Jake says. “Which means that the only way for you to get another opinion on your work is if someone who is _not_ Jeremy Heere reviews it.”

He almost says ‘not your boyfriend’ or ‘someone who doesn’t have a gigantic crush on you’ but the first statement is something Jake wishes wasn’t true, and the second is totally fake, so… ‘Not Jeremy Heere’ it is.

Michael chucks another piece of popcorn at Jake, which Jake doesn’t end up catching for once. “Dork.”

“Bad aim,” Jake counters, picking up the kernel and eating it with a grin. “Seriously though. Can I see some of it? Or like, work on something new with you? I know you’re not doing a scholarship thing anymore, but writing is still like… something important to you, right?”

It feels weird, talking about _feelings_ and _important things_ with someone—even if that someone is Michael.

But Jake’s not putting all his eggs in one basket if it’s not his _own_ feelings he’s talking about, so it’s probably okay.

Besides, the look on Michael’s face makes him think that he’s doing the right thing.

“Alright, geez, I’ll show you some old stuff. But like, you can be critical or whatever, dude, I wrote some of it like… Freshman year. Fourteen-year-olds should be banned from writing scrips forever.”

“I’ll decide it when I read it,” Jake says. Then, he stands up and offers Michael a hand. “C’mon, I take it you’ve got it in your room somewhere?”

“We’re doing this now?”

“No time like the present,” Jake says with a grin, looking at Michael’s startled expression. “Plus, this way you can’t forget or delete it off your computer before I have a chance to ask again.”

“I wouldn’t delete it,” Michael grumbles as he takes Jake’s hand. “But fine. Let’s go look at my shame.”

\--

Michael’s first script is… _admittedly_ … Not amazing.

But it was also written by a fourteen-year-old; a freshman in high school. It’s corny and cheesy, but it’s also genuinely funny in certain spots. It’s written in the way that’s funny for fourteen-year-olds, and a small part of Jake still thinks those jokes are good, because it wasn’t all that long ago that he was _making_ those jokes.

So when he laughs, it’s with Michael, not at him, and after he finishes the first script, he gives Michael a genuine smile. “Dude, that was seriously your first one ever?”

“Well, like, my first, um, real one,” he says. “It’s not the first time I ever picked up a pencil or anything.”

“I mean, granted—but still. Robots vs Zombies. Nice.” He pauses, then, “I’m sensing a common theme of zombies, actually, with the one we were working on.”

“I just think they’re cool?” Michael looks away, seeming to think about it, then, “Or, like, I used to. I still think zombie video games are awesome and like, movies and stuff, but like… _Some_ zombie stuff freaks me the fuck out.”

“Yeah?”

“Like, okay, I kinda OD’d on zombie shit last fall,” he says with a wave of his hand. “And so for the like, Christmas Play and all— _the_ Play,” he clarifies, “I just—I guess I associated you guys with like, actual zombies. Y’know, like, you guys had a weird thing that was spreading, you weren’t like fully human anymore, and you wanted brains. Kinda hard not to draw an association.”

Jake blinks. “Oh, shit.” It takes a second for him to really rationalize it, to understand what Michael’s implying. But then, “I was a fuckin’ _zombie_.”

“You were a fuckin’ zombie,” Michael confirms. “But like, for twenty minutes.”

“We should make t-shirts.”

Michael stares at him for a second. “Uh?”

“Like, ‘I was a zombie for 20 minutes and all I got was this lousy t-shirt,’” Jake says with a laugh. Because hell, it’s way easier to laugh about that night than to actually devote energy thinking about it. Same with literally anything in Jake’s life, but hey, let’s not get into that right now. “No one else’ll get it, but I feel like Brooke ‘n Chloe will laugh at least.”

When Jake looks back at Michael, he’s still staring with an almost unreadable expression. Gently, he takes the old script from Jake’s hands. “Probably,” he says, but when he tries for a smile, it’s lopsided. “Jeremy ‘n Rich will need a variation though.”

“And Jenna,” Jake says, because he hasn’t forgotten his conversation with her.

Remembering their conversation, though, means remembering that look on her face when she was talking to him about SQUIP-stuff a few days ago. It pushes some guilt into his stomach, and he wonders if he should really be making fun of SQUIPs when it hurt so many people. If he’s really able to make fun of them, when other people suffered more directly from SQUIPs than Jake did.

But then he remembers that his SQUIP added another month and a half to his healing time and made him get surgery, and all he can think is, fuck SQUIPs, and he deserves to make fun of them as much as anyone.

No one else lost a fuckin’ _house_ , either, so if anyone has a problem with his joke or coping mechanisms, they can suck it.

“And Jenna,” Michael agrees, pulling Jake out of his head. “I want one that says ‘I ended the Zombie Apocalypse and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.’”

“Holy shit, _yes_.”

“Squad goals, if we can get everyone on board.” Michael’s smile drops a little, because there’s no way Jeremy will wear that shirt, and probably the same with Jenna. Rich… Rich would probably wear it ‘cause he’s into irony and depression memes, so that’s at least one more. “Maybe someday we’ll be able to do it. Graduation, or something.”

Jake grins. “Hell yeah. Graduation gifts ‘n all that jazz.” He pauses, then looks at the script in Michael’s hands. “So are you, like, gonna hit me with the next script or what?”

A laugh is startled from Michael’s throat, and he tosses another stack of papers in Jake’s general direction. Amidst the flurry of papers, Jake can’t help but look at his friend, and when he smiles, there’s unbidden warmth behind it.

He’s pretty sure Michael’s never been more perfect than right at this moment, laughing and sharing something vulnerable that (almost) no one else has ever seen.

And honestly, even if the next few scripts are the worst things he’s ever read, he’s pretty sure he’d still love them, because Michael’s sharing something of himself. And so far, there’s no part of Michael that Jake doesn’t absolutely adore.

\--

The next four scripts are given to him chronologically, and Jake can see his progress throughout. He can also sense patterns of sci-fi and horror in general, because the plots have some pretty particular _themes_.

The scripts are as follows:

One, written in the summer between freshman year and sophomore year: Octopi are actually _aliens_ and plan on taking over the world once humans cause enough global warming and inadvertently expand Octopi territory. The only way to save the world is to start another ice age. The protagonists are really suave and cool and perfect, and build a super cool ice-ray machine that they set on high and blast into the atmosphere and save humanity and they both get girlfriends who were other scientists. Three and a half stars, in Jake’s humble opinion.

Two, written mid-and-late sophomore year: Aliens are real and they’re actually better people than humanity. When they abduct humans for study, they take them on a forced, scientific (but very luxurious and vacation-y) tour of their alien world. But when it’s time to go back to Earth, the humans refuse to leave the alien planet because it’s way better and has health care and social equality and better food. It’s more lighthearted than anything Micheal’s written before, and the plot’s a little weak—mostly about shenanigans and falling in love with an alien that doesn’t have an established gender because on this planet gender doesn’t exist. But the protagonists are funny and thoughtful. Not particularly cool or suave like the last script, but… unique, and interesting, and flawed, and human. A solid three and a half out of five stars.

Three, the summer before his junior year: Robots become more empathetic than people after humanity’s brains stop evolving personalities or empathy and instead are more like a scientific hivemind because the education system seeks to make all humans into perfect researchers and scientists. But then a person that realizes that part of his brain isn’t working, and who wants to fix it by letting an off-the-grid robot nurture the existing, small, underused empathetic part of his brain. The only problem is the human and the robot fall in love, and the human starts hesitating about his research experiments where he’s been creating and destroying life without any regard for how the robots feel about being given sentience. In the end, the human and robot move flee the country and live together in an abandoned old ‘junkyard’ where people and robots already live in harmony. It’s not as serious as it sounds, though. The protagonists are fuckin’ hilarious and imperfect and awkward, and it’s probably Jake’s favorite thing ever, so it definitely deserves at least four and a half or five stars.

And, in the last and most recent play: poor people are genetically modified by the rich to be docile, and all become zombie-janitors who are meant to clean up the earth. But the protagonist encounters some radioactive garbage one day and it’s enough to snap him out of the modifications, and he realizes that he and all his loved ones have been stuck doing this mechanical work for years. The protagonist then leads a rebellion, fighting against the rich people and scientists who changed humanity into zombie janitors by changing back other zombie janitors through radioactive garbage, until he has a strikeforce of janitors who lead a surprise attack and take down the scientists and rich people. The protagonist is deeply flawed and unhappy, but he’s brave, and does his best to do the right thing. There’s also not a love story—only a sub-story of friendship and loss.

…Jake can kind of tell that that last one was written last fall, because it’s the only story where the protagonist is mostly alone. And, also, there’s zombies, with some underlying themes that make Jake think of a post-SQUIP-pocalyptic world.

Like the lone savior turning zombies back into people.

“You show anyone else this last one?” Jake asks after he finishes the closing lines. And no, he’s definitely not wiping a tear, because Michael definitely didn’t make this into a huge fucking bummer of an ending. “I mean, Jeremy included?”

“Didn’t think he’d wanna read it,” Michael says, with the tiniest bit of defensiveness. Then, as if anticipating Jake’s response, “He’s not unsupportive, okay? He’s _sweet_. And he loves me. It’s just that certain things are hard to talk about for him, which like, I totally get? If I were mind-controlled and brainwashed into being a shitty person and had all my insecurities taken advantage of, I’d be pretty wary of reading anything that has to do with it. Triggers are _real_ , dude.”

“I know triggers are real, Michael.” Jake looks between the script and Michael for a moment, wondering how to say the things he wants most to say. “I just… It sucks. You should be able to do shit and be supported by the dude that loves you.” When Michael just gives a noncommittal-looking nod, Jake pointedly adds, “Especially when you’re planning your whole future around him.”

“I’m not putting my whole future around him,” Michael says. “Just—college, so far. I fought so hard to be with him, you know?”

Jake’s mouth quirks up into an approximation of a smile. “Yeah.”

“And I get that Christine doesn’t want to date a high school sweetheart forever, so she ‘n Jeremy fell apart,” he continues. “And that’s great for her! It really is. She knows that she wants to try lots of things and that’s super great and healthy, probably, but it’s not—I like _stability_.”

“Hey, I’m not knocking stability,” Jake promises. At Michael’s uncertain look, Jake leans over and puts a hand on his knee. “I’m not. I swear I’m not. I _miss_ stability.” And that’s a little too much, even if he is talking to Michael Mell, the one person he’s pretty sure won’t judge him or hold him to a weirdly high standard. Still, he deflects and backtracks, just a little. “But I guess I just worry that like… what if I just settle for someone who isn’t good for me, ‘n I’m not good for them, just because I think they’re neat when I’m young. Like… I dunno. I’ve seen marriages that suck, ‘cause they settled for people they didn’t really care about.”

Michael looks at him just a little too long, and Jake tries to figure out what conclusion Michael’s coming to. He realizes it just a beat too late.

“Not my parents,” Jake says, words in a rush so that they sound like ‘no’myparens’, which is probably weird, since Jake never stumbles over words. “They—like, I swear, man, their relationship? Fine. It was always fine. No worries or issues, they were awesome business partners ‘n junk. They left together, so it’s like—they’re partners. It’s fine.”

“Okay, and you also described it as fine three times in like two sentences,” Michael points out. “So I’m thinking… maybe it’s not?”

“There was nothing wrong with their _marriage_.”

“Then something else,” Michael says, pointedly, and Jake feels himself putting a wall up between them. His face gets carefully neutral, and his arms cross over his chest before Jake’s even aware that his body language is saying, ‘don’t talk to me.’ Michael notices, and there’s sympathy (or pity?) in his eyes when he reaches over and puts a hand on Jake’s knee. “Look, I get it if you don’t wanna talk about it after… everything. But like…”

“But nothing.”

And Jake’s surprised to hear himself say it. But Michael also was just another person who kind of up and left. Sure, he’s back now, and he wants to trust Michael not to do the same thing again—but Jake’s surprised at just how hard it is to fully trust Michael with…

Well. Any ‘eggs’, in any basket, so to speak.

Jake’s not actually sure he would’ve told Michael about this even if Michael hadn’t avoided him for a few weeks, though. Not after Rich.

He finds himself curling into himself a little, leaning forward to cross his arms over his knees, and rest his chin on his crossed forearms.

“Jake,” Michael says, moving to sit next to him. He sets aside the scripts for now, glancing between the loose-leaf, stapled paper and his friend. “C’mon, man. One of my moms is basically listed as your guardian now, y’know? School called her to confirm the number, and now she’s officially playing ‘Tarah Dillinger’ for the long term. Which means she’ll be the one signing like, graduation stuff for you, and other late slips ‘n junk.” Jake knows Michael doesn’t say it to guilt trip him, but his stomach sinks nonetheless. Oblivious, Michael just continues on. “…So I guess I just want to know what’s going on, first-hand with your parents and why mine are filling in. The real story, you know? Not just rumors.”

“Maybe the rumors are right and you should take them at face value.”

“Or, and hear me out,” Michael says, “You could just talk to me and tell me the truth.”

Jake sinks his chin into the space between his arms and knees. “Or I could not do that, and live my life without someone knowing all my shit.”

“This is literally maybe 12% of all possible shit I could know about you. Probably closer to 2%.” Michael gently nudges Jake’s side. “C’mon, man. I get why you don’t like talking about it, but learning stuff about you? It’s like pulling fucking teeth.” He pauses, then as he considers his metaphor more closely, “Without your parents to make appointments, do you even go to the dentist?”

“It’s definitely a possibility, yeah.”

“You see?” Michael reaches out with one hand to shake Jake’s shoulder, and gestures wildly with his other hand. “That’s not an answer! That’s what you do, man, every time I ask stuff. So I’m gonna ask again, okay? When’s the last time you went to the dentist?”

Jake lets out an exasperated sigh. “June. Like, …sophomore year.”

“That’s like. A year and a half ago. Gross.”

“Okay, but like, I _actually_ floss and brush three times a day,” Jake points out. “Four if I brush twice before going to school.”

“Okay, so like… that’s not bad, I guess.” Michael seems at least mildly satisfied with that answer, for now. Calmer, at least, with no more shoulder-shaking to be had.

Jake thinks it’s an awful lot of emotion for a guy that wasn’t talking to him for like three full weeks, but whatever. He’s also trying not to be too bitchy about it, since he’s fine in the present. But missing someone has after-effects, and Jake isn’t totally prepared to deal with those.

He rubs under his eyes for a moment, feeling tiredness in his eyes from reading like, five different scrips back-to-back.

And naturally, that’s when his stomach decides to growl.

“Popcorn doesn’t do it for you long term, huh?”

“It’s a food group all in its own, look it up,” Jake quips. And thank fuck for the change in topic, because he playfully gets out of his ‘closing in on himself’ position to playfully push at Michael’s arm. “I should probably get outta here ‘n head home. I got groceries there… probably gonna cook up some mean totinos and frozen veggies or something.”

“Or, hear me out,” Michael starts, “You could have some Mell-style-mom-cuisine and stay the night, instead of eating frozen food for like the eighth time this week.” And Jake honest-to-god stops what he’s doing for a second just to stare at him. When Michael notices, he tilts his head to the side. “What? My moms make some awesome stuff. Don’t give me that look, you’ve tried their leftover lasagna before and you told me you were _in love_.”

“I—yeah, I know I did,” Jake says quickly. “I just—like, I dunno about staying the night or anything, you sure that’d be cool with… everyone?”

“I’ve got a pull-out mattress thing under my bed that’s got your name on it,” Michael says solemnly. At Jake’s uncertain silence, he sighs then adds, “And also I feel super bad about avoiding you for a while just ‘cause I didn’t know what to do with all my feelings-junk. I mean, I still talked to you ‘n we hung out some, but I know it was shitty of me. So… let me make it up to you.”

A tiny part of Jake wants to say no.

But it’s also the same part that wants to hold desperately onto his secrets. It’s also the part that filed for emancipation instead of telling his parents he would be happier moving in with an uncle or aunt when they left, and the part that didn’t want to talk to Rich ever again, and the part that wants very badly to tell Jenna to suck it and that he doesn’t want to go to her party.

It’s the selfish part of his brain, and Jake knows himself well enough to recognize it, and squash it down like he’s supposed to.

“Alright, alright,” he says with a lopsided grin. “Your moms’ cooking won me over. How am I supposed to resist when she uses like seven cheeses in her lasagnas, huh?”

The smile that flashes onto Michael’s face is unmistakable. He stands, then offers Jake a hand. “Sweet. And hey, don’t think of it as me trying to mother-hen you, think of it as me forcing you into a very long-winded examination of all my scripts, and making you listen to all the stuff I’ve got planned for new projects.”

Jake takes his hand, and it feels warm and solid in his own. “What, so you _do_ have new projects?”

“Dude, I _always_ have new projects—at least like, a little. I’ve got so many ideas and so many things that just straight-up can’t get written down, it’s crazy. You’ve really done yourself in now, asking about ‘em earlier—you’re never gonna escape me now.”

Michael says it as he walks backwards, hand still holding Jake’s as he leads him out of his bedroom and into the main living room.

And as Jake takes in all the homey décor, and the smell of something cooking on the stove, and Michael’s hand around his, and of two middle-aged adults speaking in gentle, conversational tones in the kitchen…

It’s the closest he’s felt to a home in years.

Jake’s ninety-nine percent sure that he’s going to break down over this eventually. But he will not—repeat _not_ —do it right here or right now.

So he just grins and walks forward with Michael, shaking his head fondly at his friend. “I brought it upon myself, I think I can live with the consequences. Just don’t base any other characters after me if you’re gonna name them _Troy Bolton_.”

“I can’t believe I’m being bullied right now,” Michael says. “How could you mock my _art_?”

“How could you name me after a popular jock basketball star when I mainly play _football_? Are you saying all jocks look the same to you?” Jake teases. “I can’t believe you’re _sportest_ , oh my god.”

Michael snorts, and Jake lightly swats at the hand Michael’s tugging him with. “Moooommm,” Michael says, just after Jake makes contact. “Jake’s bullying me. I’m being bullied right now, that’s what this is.”

One of the women raises her voice from the kitchen to either ask Michael something or criticize his claim. It’s in Filipino so Jake has no idea what she’s saying, but whatever it is, it makes Michael laugh.

And it’s this moment, and this moment alone, that makes Jake realize that he’s never going to stop caring about Michael Mell. Even if he got left on read for a damn year, it wouldn’t be enough to erase the memory of this perfect moment.

It makes him a little more sympathetic about Michael waiting around for Jeremy, if nothing else.

 

\--

Dinner is an uneventful affair, but it’s… something.

It’s been a long time since Jake’s been around adults, if he’s being honest. Or—okay, so he’s around adults Monday through Friday and sometimes on Saturdays for Model UN. But that’s not really the same. That’s just teachers telling him what they want from him, and Jake doing his best to meet those standards.

This, though…

“So, Jake,” one of Michael’s moms says, her pretty red lipstick smudged from dinner, but pulled up into a smile. He guesses that she’s Latina or Southeast Asian or both, but honestly, he has no clue. Geography isn’t exactly his strong-suit even if he’s not bad at it, necessarily. Y’know, for an American. “I feel like you’re over a lot, but I know so little about you.”

“Oh, uh, there’s not much to tell.” Jake pushes around some fried rice. It’s not made the way Chinese restaurants do it, and it tastes like, a little nutty, but it’s good. He tries very hard not to get seconds in the interest of being a good guest. “I’m just, y’know. In a couple of Michael’s classes, ‘n stuff.”

Michael gives Jake a long and kind of incredulous look. “Right, ‘cause I make friends in my classes so often.”

“Michael,” the other mom says, clicking her tongue at him. “Confidence.”

“It’s not unconfident if it’s true,” he says. “But uh, truth be told, we met because of the play Jeremy was in last fall.”

The women exchange a look—the _mom_ look—and Jake wishes he knew what it meant when it’s multiplied by two and acknowledged on both sides. His mom used to sometimes give that look to his dad, but his dad was always a little too busy talking to listen.

He’s pretty sure it means _concern_ , though.

“The play, dear? The one where so many students had to go to the hospital?”

“In my defense, I was only out for a few days,” Jake says. Except, while that was true, he had to stay pretty long since he was also in casts for other reasons, and the doctors decided to operate on his legs before re-casting him. “It was no big deal.”

“I’m sure,” lipstick mom says. “It sounds pretty brave, going through all that.”

“And the housefire,” the other—tongue-clicking, short hair, probably southeast Asian—mom says. “You are Jake _Dillinger_ , right?”

“ _Nanay_ ,” Michael says, like that was supposed to be a secret. And maybe it was, but it’s a super crappy secret considering it’s been the talk of the town for like, weeks. Housefires are serious business, especially when it’s surrounding an under-supervised minor and multiple people got hurt.

Jake tries not to think about his legs or the phantom pains that he feels sometimes.

“That’s my name, yeah,” Jake says politely, then takes a bite of dinner around a forced smile. Maybe if he eats they won’t ask him any more questions.

They still do, of course.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask, especially since it was some time ago. But… are you alright, Jake?”

“It was last October, so I think I’m pretty okay by now, yeah.” Half-done with the second semester of his Junior year of high school, Jake thinks it’s a little ridiculous for adults to be asking about his wellbeing. He’s literally been living alone the full school year and most of the summer—and adults are just now deciding it’s appropriate to check on him? Fat chance.

The table is quiet for a moment, and Jake pointedly doesn’t look at the women as they exchange a glance supposedly over his head as he eats. “Well,” lipstick mom asks, “That’s… good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Jake’s tone is a little sarcastic, maybe, but what’s he supposed to say here? ‘Thanks for caring but I’ve been an emancipated minor in law for a while, and in practice for way longer.’ Realizing that he’s being rude to adults who aren’t doing anything bad to him, though, Jake clears his throat. “I, uh. Thank you, for dinner. And letting me stay over.” He pauses. “And asking, I guess, but uh, it’s really totally cool. I’m good.”

Short haired mom— _'Nanay_ ,’ also probably the mom whose cell phone number is burned into Jake’s updated school forms—doesn’t let the conversation die there, though. “So, after the house burned—you still have somewhere to stay?”

“Sure do. Insurance um, covered it most of the way, since it was unintentional.” He shifts a little uncomfortably now, knowing that Rich had to make a statement saying that he was drunk and knocked a candle over and a lot of fabric caught fire with the house following suit. Insurance doesn’t cover arson if it’s in any way connected to the homeowner themself, since apparently people actually _do_ set their own houses on fire just for the insurance money. Which, if Jake’s parents could have profited from, maybe they would have, considering their career choices. Which means that Jake was on pretty thin ice if no one could prove that it wasn’t intentional arson, because maybe his parents would get in trouble, and Jake would get in trouble, and maybe then he’d just be screwed and homeless at seventeen, and…

The truth is, when it comes to what actually happened at the fire, Rich wasn’t telling the truth when he gave a statement, half-high on his hospital bed, to the insurance agent.

But the thing is, what Jake saw, and what Rich actually did…

The candle thing—

Jake knows it isn’t the truth, but it’s a better lie than the truth, and Jake wishes he could live in the world where that was the truth, instead of—

Jake’s flavorful dish tastes like ash, suddenly, and he suppresses the urge to push his plate away and leave. He can’t think about the fire right now. Not when he hasn’t thought about it—or all the things that came with it—in months.

So he _doesn’t_ think about it.

“So yeah, they uh, rebuilt the house. ‘s smaller than it was before ‘cause there’s no good reason to make it that massive again.” He’s oversharing and he knows it, but he’d rather focus on that than talking about the fire itself, which is a dangerous line of thought. “Like, it was a good, uh, opportunity to start over and not have the house full of so much expensive junk. I’m now a firm minimalist, you know? So it’s fine. I actually kind of like furniture shopping though, it’s kinda neat.”

“By yourself?” Nanay sounds sympathetic, but Jake outright winces.

“What kind of style did you end up going with, with the furniture?” Lipstick mom asks, kindly, instead of making Jake talk about anything so lonely as that.

“Think it’s just… Modern. Teenage boy chic,” Jake says, with a slightly forced laugh. “Lots of windows and posters and open space, and uh, just… comfy chairs.” At the risk of oversharing, he says, “Some of it I jus’ picked out ‘cause it was easier to use with a wheelchair and crutches but it still looks rad even now that I’m not in all that.”

“Sounds like you’re good at picking things for their utilitarian value,” Lipstick mom says, in that same kind voice. Being that she’s sitting across from him, it’s easy for her to reach across and pat his hand. Somehow, it doesn’t come across as condescending. “Very smart of you. Michael says you’re in Model UN?”

“Yeah, he’s really, _really_ good at it,” Michael pipes up, after being troublingly quiet for a while. And it occurs to Jake, just then, that Jake hasn’t actually made eye-contact with anyone for most of the last conversation. And shit, that’s probably not good, but Michael doesn’t call him on it. “He’s gotten like, awards and stuff.”

“That’s quite impressive, Jake.” Nanay’s voice is sweet, and she sounds a little sorry for prying now that she’s letting the conversation drift elsewhere.

Jake wants to tell her that it’s okay and that he’d be curious, too, if he was the fake legal guardian of a teenager who had no legal guardian. But he doesn’t say it, because that’d be a hell of a lot to say to someone you hardly know.

“What’s Model UN, exactly?” Nanay asks, then. “I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with it, and I keep thinking of students preparing a runway at a United Nations meeting and showing off politically-themed clothes. But that’s _very_ specific, and as handsome as you are, something tells me that that isn’t what you’re doing in there.”

The description prompts a laugh from Jake. “Uh, no, that’s—that’d be fun, but that’s definitely not what we do.”

“It’s not?”

Jake snorts at Michael’s fake-shocked question, then answers the moms. “We pose as delegates for the United Nations and roleplay being politicians making decisions for the world. We have to balance like, countries’ interests and stuff sometimes, but a lot of the time we just end up talking about politics and being total idealists trying to fix all the world’s problems. And we sometimes have like, competitions with other schools and stuff, debating with them about a specific proposal.”

It’s probably the last thing anyone expects to hear about Jake Dillinger if they know him mostly for sports. But he’s not just a member, he’s the _President_ of Model UN, and he wouldn’t have stuck with it since Sophomore year if he didn’t enjoy it.  

As much as he likes to pretend that it’s just for college resume boosting when his old sports-friends asked him about it, it’s something he genuinely cares about.

Even if sometimes meets and competitions don’t go well, and he—despite being the president—gets treated more as the VP because he’s not what people expect, and his white, outwardly ‘scholarly’ looking VP… is.

He shakes his head fondly anyways. “It’s fun. It doesn’t sound like it, but I swear, it’s actually pretty cool.”

“Maybe Michael might like to join you sometime,” Lipstick mom says, like it’s a hint of some kind. “Might look good on college applications, especially if it’s also fun.”

“ _Or_ , I could stick with my after-school writing club,” Michael says, as if there’s actually such thing at Middleborough. But Jake is a bro, and there’s no way he’ll out Michael like that. “I mean, it helped me get my script taken up by the school play, and writing’s kinda what I want to do…”

“But they hardly gave you any credit for writing it, love,” Nanay says, with a meaningful look which makes Jake think that she knows how to browse the school page and actually look for after-school clubs.

Jake’s ready for her to be critical, then, and confrontative.

He’s ready for her to berate Michael right in front of him, and tell him that he needs to join a few more clubs if he’s ever going to be accepted into college. He’s ready for the ‘work twice as hard for half the benefits’ speech. He’s ready for casual digs at Michael, implications that maybe he’s not smart enough for Model UN if he’s not researching politics all the time so that he’ll always know what he’s talking about, because the last thing he needs is someone challenging his authority as president for a _good_ reason. He’s ready for a conversation about, ‘Jake, you have to stick with the clubs you’re already in, or else you might get questions about why you can’t just commit to your extra-curriculars. We’re signing you up for SAT-prep this year, too. Make sure that you’re keeping up with it all, or else we’ll cut the least impressive clubs. I know you _founded_ the Frisbee Golf club, honey, but it’s a little…’

He hears none of that from Michael’s mom.

Instead, he hears, “But I’m happy that you found some activities and people that you enjoy. I hope this year you can write another play for the school, you seemed really happy about it last year. Plus,” she says as she takes a bite of her dinner, then continues casually, “Some of your new friends are still acting, aren’t they?”

“New _and_ old,” Michael says. “Christine’s the biggest theater nut I know, but Jeremy really likes acting now, so he’ll probably be in it, whatever they produce. And uh, Brooke and Jenna, I think? Not sure if I want to do a play if they’re all acting, though. It’d be super weird having them play my characters, you know?”

It’s weird, considering Michael came to Jake specifically asking him to help him play characters. But maybe it’s a little different, when it’s about real-life events.

Or maybe it’s just a cop-out, and Michael doesn’t want to submit his script again. Jake couldn’t blame him, considering how terrible the last one turned out on-stage. It’s not exactly Michael’s fault, but…

Jake wonders, suddenly, if Michael’s moms were at the play and saw it in all its chaotic, mind-controlled, real-zombie glory. He wonders if they know how much of it was intended to go wrong, and how worried they were when everyone started screaming.

He’ll have to ask later.

Dinner ends not long after, and Michael and Jake are both enlisted to help out with the dishes if they want ice cream. One of Michael’s moms has got to be either a chef or complete and total health nut, because it’s literally homemade lactose-free ice cream.

The chores don’t end with just dishes, though, because after dessert, Lipstick Mom pulls Michael away to help her fold some laundry. Michael does it without a word of complaint, and it makes Jake think that it really is just a household ritual, for everyone to work together to keep up on housework and use it as a bonding experience at the same time.

Still, Jake wonders if maybe it’s a little more calculated than that, because Nanay stays in the kitchen with Jake, officially leaving him alone with her.

His suspicions aren’t wrong, either, because after only thirty seconds of silence between them, she speaks up. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping bounds,” she says, and Jake looks up with just a hint of a guarded expression. “But I was hoping for a minute to talk to you in private.”

Jake swallows a little thickly. “Any particular… reason?”

“I might be your _fake_ guardian, but I’m still an adult. And… if there’s anything you need, I want to help, if you’re okay with that,” Nanay says. It’s with something that looks a little like a smile, but it’s a world too sad to be classified as a happy one. “I’m not sure if Michael’s ever properly introduced us to you, by the way. You can call me Paloma, if you want. My wife’s name is Sophie.”

“I… thought your name was Nanay?”

To his surprise, Paloma puts a hand over her mouth and laughs. “No, that’s—That’s just what Michael calls me. It’s the Filipino word for mom, that way he doesn’t call ‘mom’ and have two people running every time if he wants one of us in particular. You might also hear him call me _ina_ , if he’s grumpy, or you might hear me called _irog_ by my wife. Or just a few Filipino phrases in general, we speak a few languages in this house.”

Jake’s polite and chooses not to ask what irog means, but he guesses it’s probably like, honey, or something. “I’m Jake,” he says instead, and sticks his hand out for her to shake it.

Paloma laughs again, then grips his hand softly and shakes it. It’s not a strong or steady handshake, and her hands are soft and small and a little plump, but it’s probably the best handshake he’s had in a while. Maybe because she smiles at him and uses both hands to shake Jake’s, with her free hand closing over the top of their combined ones.

She’s such a _mom_ that Jake’s a little stunned that someone like her exists.

“Well, Jake, it is a pleasure to meet you. I might just be your fake guardian, but I’d like it very much if you had my number in case of emergencies. You are always welcome to come here if you need it, okay? Not just to hang out with Michael.”

It takes Jake a full second to process that offer, and when he does, he has to tell himself not to cry in the firmest mental voice he can muster.

“Sounds cool,” he says out loud, then uses his own free hand to pat over the top of hers. Then he pulls back, an uncertain, lopsided smile on his face. “Michael’s, uh, a good guy. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Anytime,” she says. And she doesn’t put any particular emphasis on it, even after the conversation they just had. But Jake can’t help but weigh that word differently himself.

Later, when he’s distracted playing video games with Michael, and staying up talking about nonsense topics that don’t mean a thing, and talking about all the different plots that they could come up with together, if they ever go back to scripts—Later, he’ll think about Michael’s house, and how differently it feels from his own.

And he gets why Michael’s the kind of person that he is, that he has two people who love him so openly, so fully, with no reservation. If Jake was a more jealous person, he’d be beside himself with that feeling, with that longing for a similar upbringing. But he’s not, and what’s more, he adores Michael’s moms for what they’ve been able to do for their son.

He knows he doesn’t have quite the same experience, himself. But damn—he hopes that if his selfish dreams ever come true, that he’ll be able to keep Michael this way. Loved, and knowing that he’s loved.

Or at least, to keep him happy.

When Michael falls asleep—on his stomach, with his face turned to the side, glasses-less face looking soft and gentle and content—Jake can’t help but look at him for a little while.

He stops short of reaching for Michael’s hand, splayed out beside him and hanging off the bed.

Because Jake knows that looking is fine—but he can’t touch. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

But damn. Even just looking is something, because he knows not everyone gets the chance to see Michael like this, and to know what’s behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things that jake doesn't enjoy: 
> 
> talking about his feelings  
> talking about his parents
> 
> things that jake has to think about in this chapter:
> 
> talking about his feelings  
> talking about his parents
> 
> but at least we get to see how much of a sci-fi nerd michael is and we get to meet michael's moms, right?


	9. and im the one done

Jeremy Heere isn’t a bad guy.

Or at least, he doesn’t try to be. Of that, Jake’s pretty sure. Jake and Jeremy aren’t exactly ‘buds’ or ‘homies’ or anything of the sort—but they’re in the same friend group, and they have like, at least a little bit of overlap in a couple of ways.

For one: Dating. They both dated Christine, had a thing with Chloe and Brooke at one point, and they both really, really like Michael. So in terms of dating partners, they’re pretty damn near identical. (Except Jake’s dated like thirteen different girls, and Jeremy’s on his third partner total—but like, not bad for a guy who didn’t start dating until last September.)

But the thing is, aside from a few superficial similarities like taste in dates, they’re different in literally every other way imaginable.

Not just physically—with some, uh, pretty glaring melanin differences in addition to one of them having muscle mass whereas the other…doesn’t…—but emotionally and mentally.

Jake wouldn’t call himself insecure, for starters. He’s had a rough lot in life and maybe that comes with a price tag of never letting down his guard. But as far as he can tell, he’s pretty secure in his talents and abilities. He’s worked hard to be as good as he is, and there’s a reason he’s always been team captain or club president of most of the extracurriculars he does.

Jeremy, though—Jeremy not only has a million insecurities, but as far as Jake can tell, he _absolutely_ lets them control him. Or, did, at least, pre-SQUIP, as it was kind of the thing that made him take that stupid pill. He’s not sure about post-SQUIP Jeremy yet. That guy remains a mystery, whereas he’s pretty sure that pre-SQUIP Jeremy was a pretty frustrating kind of person.

And Jake doesn’t want to make a judgment call and say that it makes Jeremy a bad person just because he had frustrating tendencies. Because even if Jake doesn’t really get it—the way that insecurities can chip away at you until you’re nothing but the things you hate most about yourself—he gets that there’s a general consensus that Jeremy isn’t, like, totally to blame for what he did.

But Jake also doesn’t really get why everyone is _so_ willing to let Jeremy off the hook.

It’s probably because of the whole… mind-link, thing, but even then, Jake doesn’t get why he doesn’t have the same generally-warm feeling towards Jeremy when the others do.

Does it have something to do with Jake’s feelings for Michael? Probably. But it also has a whole lot to do with Michael’s feelings about Jeremy, and their relationship, and the fact that Jake seems to be the only one who can see that Jeremy’s choices hurt people past-tense, _and_ continue to hurt people present-tense.

He doesn’t know if it’s just because he doesn’t know Jeremy that well and hasn’t put in much effort to hang out one-on-one with him, but damn, it’s hard to figure him out.

Maybe it’s not the _smartest_ thing to do, but he decides to ask someone about it before he goes completely crazy from debating his feelings for Jeremy.

(Feelings being the non-romantic kind, obviously—but there’s a lot of feelings that a person can have for another person, and literally all of them have the potential to be confusing.)

Brooke is the first person he thinks of, and probably the best candidate. She had a bad experience with Jeremy, and yet, she still has… somewhat, sort-of, mostly warm feelings towards him. If anyone would be able to give him an answer for why it’s so easy for everyone else to get close to him and hang out, it’d probably be her.

So after a quick text-chain and phone-call, he and Brooke have plans to hang out on Sunday night.

When she comes over, it’s with a bag of what old-Jake would call ‘girl stuff.’

Like, about five different kinds of face masks, hair treatments, 15 different shades of nail polish, make-up supplies, teeth-whiteners, lip-stains, and probably five more things that Jake isn’t actually sure what they do despite his lengthy friendship with Brooke.

(At this point, he doesn’t actually want to know.)

Even if it’s not Jake’s first choice of hang-out materials, he can’t bring himself to mind.

After all, his extensive knowledge of being friends with Brooke Lohst tells him that she has a few things she does when she’s nervous, which involves either picking at her nail polish or putting a new coat on, as well as compulsively either doing face-masks or putting on makeup. And he probably could’ve phrased their texts and call a little better than, ‘hey can you come over so we can talk about something kind of serious?’

—f she’s nervous, it’s probably his fault.

(Additionally, her nervousness habit is legendary, for those who know what to look for. He’s pretty sure that every time she’s fought with Chloe, Brooke’s come to school sporting a fresh makeup look and a new nail polish color, and then after lunch she’s sporting another fresh set, and then yet _another_ one if he saw her at a party later.

But like, there’s probably worse coping mechanisms, so he’s never commented on it. …But it is a pretty good sign that something’s wrong, if he sees her cycling through like five different Looks throughout the week.)

“So, you had something you wanted to talk about?” Brooke asks as she carefully puts on a base coat onto her nails. From what Jake can tell, she’s going for a sunset look, though he honestly has no idea how girls can mix nail polish colors and put a gradient onto their nails.

Jake, meanwhile, uses a clear-coat to smooth in the grooves that run down his nails. That way, it’ll be easier to put on a color on top of it. “Yeah. Um. About Jeremy, actually.”

“Aw, here I was thinking you called me over to talk about a crush,” she teases. When Jake doesn’t immediately respond, she tsks and reaches for a soft, pretty peach color. “Okay, okay, what’s up?”

It takes a moment for Jake to really figure out what he wants to say and how, but by the time he does, he’s already finished up painting one hand.

He brings it to his lips to blow on the clear-coat to let it dry faster. “Okay, so,” he starts, “Jeremy and… SQUIPs. Like. I’m not saying this to hate on him. But I just… I don’t get it.”

“Jeremy or SQUIPs, or Jeremy’s relation _to_ the SQUIP?”

“Second one.”

Brooke nods. “Well. Um. You’re probably gonna have to be a little more specific? A lot of stuff happened and that, um, set of things could refer to a whole lot of things. Like, why did he get it, or how much was him versus the SQUIP, why’d he do what he did…”

“All of the above?”

“Mm.” Brooke bites the inside of her cheek as she concentrates on finishing up painting her pinky. “Well. Keep in mind that I’m not, like… a Jeremy expert. I dated, um, _SQUIP_ -Jeremy even though I liked real Jeremy even before he was cool.”

“I can’t believe one of my best friends is a hipster.”

“OMG, just be serious for five minutes. Do you want to hear about this or not?”

“Alright, alright, yes.” Jake grins, then starts to get out a cotton ball and nail polish remover to get rid of a big, mostly-clear glob near one nail, but Brooke stops him before he can.

“Let it dry first or it’ll smudge super grossly if you touch a cotton ball. Cotton balls are only for when you wanna take all of it off, because there’s almost no way to only get a little off with a cotton ball so then you end up touching like, all your nails and getting little white fuzz in your polish all over, and it’s just—it’s super annoying, don’t do that to yourself.”

Jake pulled back his hand. “Jeremy?”

“Right, Jeremy,” she says, patting his hand and then reaching for a pretty yellow. “So… Anyways. I liked Jeremy but dated SQUIP-Jeremy because he seemed into me, and then I got my heart totally broken, so like, the point is, I don’t really know him that well. I’m not a Jeremy-expert. But, when our minds were linked, you know how like… we learned some stuff about each other? Like what we all most wanted right then? Well, it was like, pretty obvious that he was mostly just super, super insecure and he just wanted Christine to like him. You remember that part?”

“I guess?”

Brooke furrows her brows. “You… guess? Should we like, backtrack a little or something? What do you remember about being SQUIP’d? I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it, and nothing else is gonna make sense unless you think back to what it was like… Or, if you even had a similar experience to the rest of us.”

“I don’t remember a whole lot, to be honest.” Jake tries to think back to that night, and the very brief twenty minutes of being under the influence of a SQUIP. “I… remember that it, like, looked like a more badass version of me. But also kind of like Will Smith?”

Brooke tilts her head to the side. “Huh. Mine was Kim K.”

“I feel like that says a lot about you, Brookie.” Jake smiles, though it falls a little flat, and he starts painting his other hand with the clear-coat, speaking in low tones while he does. “But, um… So, I guess I mostly remember it saying stuff about how my casts don’t even matter, and it’d be way more impressive if I could just ignore the pain and get on with my life, with nothing slowing me down. If I could just like, walk, even if I was in casts. How I could go back to being a football star, and do archery and frisbee golf super easily with its help, and everyone would basically fuckin’ idolize me again. Like, it wouldn’t even hurt, and all I’d have to do was trust it and be the badass I always wanted to be.”

“That’s… really what it was promising you?”

“Well, yeah? Like, I’m sure it could’ve worked out a much cooler, long-term plan if I’d had it for more than twenty-fucking-minutes, but right then it needed something from me, right? Just how it needed you and Chloe to make up, or whatever?”

“Well, yeah, the whole… goals thing.” Brooke quirks her lips to the side. “That’s the reason it like… linked us, and let us know everyone’s goals. So we could know exactly what it, and we, needed to do in order to meet everyone’s desires while still helping Jeremy’s goal.”

Jake nods. “And like, that’s the thing I’m confused about,” he says, gesturing vaguely with the hand holding the nail-brush, before he realizes he’s going to drop polish on the carpet if he’s not careful. “SQUIPs are all about end-goals, right? And fulfilling what a person wants, deep down?”

“Yeah?”

“So… Jeremy’s was, what, to get Christine to like him, and to be popular?” When Brooke doesn’t immediately respond, he frowns and tries to continue reasoning it out. “And the issue at the play was basically… he still wanted the end-goals, but like, the way to achieve them stopped being okay with him. But he was allowed to fight back, sort of?”

“That’s what I mostly think, yeah.”

“So… What I don’t get is, like—” Jake’s well aware that he’s gotten onto a track that he didn’t anticipate getting onto. At the heart of things, he just wanted to ask about whether or not Jeremy was a decent person if his insecurities had caused so much chaos for everyone else, yet everyone else had already totally forgiven him. Still, this part has been bugging him for a while, if he’s being honest. He just doesn’t really get it the way everyone else seems to. “So he got the thing because he didn’t like himself, yeah? But why, like… why wasn’t his goal just to start liking himself better?”

Brooke tilts her head to the side. She’s quiet for a little while, then she carefully starts to put on the yellow polish, using a technique Jake can’t follow to mix the colors. “Why wasn’t _your_ goal to bring your parents back and get rich enough to save them?” she asks instead. “I mean, SQUIPs can do almost anything, can’t they? So why wouldn’t you go with a goal that’d help people instead of one that was hurting your legs, and also one that was asking you to hurt Michael and Jeremy?”

Jake feels a little like he’s been slapped. “Because—it’s not like it was giving me all the facts, Brooke.”

She gives him a very knowing look, as if to say, _duh, that’s the point_.

“And,” he adds, just to get her to stop looking so smug, “ _And_ , it’s not like that’s what I was thinking of at that moment anyways. I was just thinking, wow, my legs hurt, wish that’d stop, and also the play was going to hell and like, dude, I’d given up archery for this, you know? I wanted the play to go well and Michael and Jeremy were ruining it.”

“And when Jeremy actually activated his SQUIP, the last thing he’d seen was Christine and you at the mall, on a date, and that upset him because he liked Christine.” She sounds a little too matter-of-fact, and Jake can’t help but frown. He remembers that moment, come to think of it; he’d thought Jeremy was having a seizure or something, but it makes way more sense if it was his SQUIP coming on. “His reason for getting it was because he was insecure, yeah, and because he wanted to be cool, or whatever. But right when he first took it, that was what he was thinking about, because he was like, sixteen and upset and insecure. Technology and brains are like… weird like that, I guess, because humans aren’t super rational or whatever, but the whole goal behind SQUIPs is helping you meet your goals and being a better person or whatever.”

Jake doesn’t really know what to say to that, especially since that’s the most he’s heard Brooke talk about a serious, science-y related subject in… ever, probably.

She seems to register that, and forces a laugh. “I mean, not that I spend that much time, um, researching it or anything. It’s just—like, it was totally crazy that everything happened, you know? And maybe I was kind of upset about Jeremy doing the stuff he did so I just… um…”

“It’s not like, weird to research it, Brooke,” Jake says. “I mean, I tried looking up SQUIPs online, too, afterwards. Found nothing, but that’s like, the point, right?”

“You can find it if you look hard enough and use code words,” Brooke says, eyes actually lighting up the tiniest bit. “There’s like a totally crazy amount of illegal products that people sell online pretending that they’re like, different products. I do a lot of, like, online shopping, and it’s kind of insane how many things you can get when you’re looking for something and know what to put in instead. Plus if you know how to like, work around a site’s code, you can find a lot of hidden stuff mixed in, and there’s definitely a few blogs about it that people under SQUIPs have made,” she says in a rush. Then, “But like, anyways—SQUIPs are… like… They’re really big on reminding you on what it is you want, to get you to keep going.”

“You had it for like, twenty minutes, Brooke. But like, you’re talking like you know from experience?”

“Because I talk to Jenna a lot,” she says slowly. “ _And_ I’m friends with Jeremy and Rich and sometimes we all—Jenna too—talk about what happened.” Jake can’t help but think that, given her tone, she thinks it’s weird that Jake _doesn’t_ talk to people about last fall. “Plus, even when I did have mine, it was, um, pretty big on reminding me what I wanted…”

Jake wants to ask other things and get back on track for why he invited her over, but… he can’t help but be distracted. “So what _did_ you want, anyways? The SQUIP didn’t… like, I don’t know, it made people’s goals sort of clear to me, but also not? I get the feeling that it didn’t really feel the need to share much with me.” He maybe feels bad about being so easily-manipulated, but he doesn’t really want to think about that now. “So, what was _your_ goal?”

“I wanted Chloe to be a better person, and I wanted us to go back to being friends,” she says. “And Chloe wanted something similar? Like. She wanted to be a better person, and wanted to be friends. Like, I also wanted to date Jeremy but my SQUIP said I deserved better anyways, so… I don’t know, I think there was a vague promise that I’d meet my Prince Charming someday, or something like that… but right then, I was upset about being in the play with my best friend who treated me super badly all the time, so the SQUIP latched onto that and set it as my main goal, you know?”

Jake finally nods, the pieces sliding into place a little easier. “Huh.”

“Yeah, so… um, anyways. Do you get it now? Like, how SQUIPs work for most of us?”

“I guess, yeah.” He pauses, then, “But I guess I, uh… I was really wondering why it’s so easy for everyone to just… forgive and forget, with Jeremy.”

Brooke tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I know I was pretty nice to him right after we all got released from the hospital, right? Afterwards, when he wanted advice about Christine? We’d all kinda gone through some real shit together, and it was super easy to be friendly. But I just…” He rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead. “The more I think about it, and the more I’m like, ‘hey, I still had some free will, and obviously Jeremy had some free will sometimes, too, so what the hell, man, why did all that stuff happen?’ –You know?”

She blows on her nails for a moment, clearly chewing on what it is Jake is trying to say. “So… you’re basically asking, ‘why do you guys like Jeremy when he’s responsible for all of this?’”

“No? Yes? I don’t know.”

“Specific,” she says with a little bit of a laugh. She fidgets, then, and looks a little sad. “Well… I think he’s a really sweet guy under it all. And it’s like—it’s really easy to relate to him. I mean, I don’t let all of my fears control me or anything, but—we can’t all be you, Jake.”

Jake furrowed his brows. “Me?”

Brooke nods. “We’re not all so… so independent, and okay with whatever happens. We’re not all confident, or cool, or like, totally in charge of our emotions.” Jake stares at her for a moment, and Brooke looks away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just saying… I was in Chloe’s shadow all the time? And then Jeremy was there and he was someone who was insecure and in touch with his feelings and he thought I was the most amazing girl in the world—he didn’t even seem interested in Chloe at all. At least, it seemed that way. I know it was the SQUIP in hindsight, but like—he really seemed to get me, and think I was important.” She bites her lip, looking kind of sad. “You know what I mean?”

Jake does, actually, because he likes Michael because Michael is a helpful, sweet, endearing person who spends time with the people he cares about and isn’t afraid to be passionate about the things he likes.

“I guess,” Jake says instead, because Brooke probably expects it, given that he’s supposed to be ‘above’ all of this, or… something.

Brooke continues on, like she expected as much. “I think… most of us are willing to forgive him pretty easily because, like, Jeremy’s taking time to talk to us and we’re all talking about feelings and stuff. He and Jenna and I hang out like once every week or two, just to get to know each other a little better. Sometimes Rich comes, but Rich is a little more guarded about… feelings.”

Jake furrows his brows. “You… like, really do that, though?”

“The group thing? We’ve tried to invite other people before—you included—but most people decide not to come.” Brooke shrugs. “Michael’s tagged along a few times, but he kind of felt left out since he didn’t have a SQUIP, so mostly he just drops Jeremy off and picks him up.”

“Ah.”

Jake’s expecting the conversation to die there, since he’s pretty much gotten his answers.

Jeremy Heere is, by all accounts, lovable and forgivable because he’s been taking the time to endear himself to the others, and to apologize for past behavior. Noted. All the markers of a guy who’s willing to change for the better.

But then… If Jeremy’s supposed to be this really amazing guy, then why is Michael so unhappy with him?

“Hey, speaking of Michael and Jeremy,” Brooke says after a long moment of silence, with a tone of voice that suggests she’s not going to drop the subject very easily once she gets started, “Are you asking about SQUIPs because of them?”

Jake makes a bit of a face. “What?”

“You’re confused why people like Jeremy so much, and you’re also mooning over his boyfriend. I’m pretty sure the two are related. So, uh, don’t know if you know this, but most people have trouble liking their crush’s boyfriend, so it makes sense that you’re trying to find reasons to dislike him, even if it is kind of mean.”

“I don’t—that’s… that’s not why I’m asking,” he says, a little weakly. “I just… he bugs me a little, you know?”

“I know. Because you like his boyfriend,” Brooke says matter-of-factly. “And don’t worry about me telling Michael or Jeremy or anyone. I can keep a secret. It’s just… I really don’t want any of you guys getting hurt, you know? And someone’s going to get hurt if you make a move, or if Michael makes a move, or if you and Jeremy start fighting.”

Jake lets out a slow sigh. “I know.”

Brooke reaches over and gently pulls him into a hug. She’s careful of both their nails, and pats him on the back with her fingers spread wide so they don’t bump into anything. “It’s okay, Jake. I know how it feels to like someone who’s super into someone else. It’s not fun. But if you date someone while they’re super into someone else, it’s even worse, because you’re always gonna feel like you’re in second place.”

“You talking about dating Jeremy?”

Brooke laughs a little, then gives him a squeeze before pulling away. “Most of the guys I’ve dated. I’ve been cheated on more than once, you know?”

Jake gives her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Just… it sucks, you know? No one wants to feel like they’re a second-stringer, or on the B-team, or whatever.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jake’s not really used to the feeling, but when he thinks about Michael still dating Jeremy, he knows that Brooke’s right. It hurts, and it sucks, and he doesn’t really know how to make that feeling go away.

Brooke gives him a lopsided smile, before leaning forward to gently kiss his cheek. It’s platonic as anything, and they both know it, but it still feels pretty nice. Then she gently cups his other cheek, pulling away to get a better look at him. “There is one way to feel better, though, without giving up on Michael or trying to get him to break up with Jeremy.”

“There is?”

“Yeah,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You could actually sit down and talk with Jeremy about all of this.”

His immediate mental response is, _Or, I could_ not _do that_ , but he knows Brooke has a point. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Yeah, because you like his boyfriend and Michael seems to like you a lot, too,” Brooke points out, and Jake ignores the way that phrase— _Michael seems to like you a lot, too_ —makes his heart skip a beat. “Anyone would feel threatened.”

“I just don’t get how easy it is for you to like him,” Jake says honestly. “I mean, he cheated on you.”

“Once I learned all the facts, I was more mad at Chloe about that,” she counters. “I mean. _Yes_ , I was upset that my boyfriend cheated. But my best friend literally tried to seduce my boyfriend, and from what I can tell Jeremy tried to say no…? I believe him, but Chloe was super drunk and I don’t think she really understood what she was doing. She’s really used to boys just wanting her no matter what, or I think she might’ve thought he was saying no to something else, I don’t know? But I’m super mad that of all the boys she could’ve used to make you jealous, she picked _my_ boyfriend. So I don’t really blame him for what happened. I’m more mad at him for just…” She bites her lip. “I’m more mad at him for just trying to use me, when he never _really_ liked me.”

“I take it he’s apologized for that?” Jake asks, because there’s no way Brooke would routinely hang out with someone who hurt her like that. She could be very standoffish when she wanted to be, which wasn’t a bad trait, really. Not when she only used it when she was rightfully upset.

Brooke nods. “More than once. He’s… really trying to be a better person, Jake.”

Her tone suggests something deeper, that Jake wasn’t expecting, and he can’t help but furrow his brows. “And do you still like him?”

Brooke looks caught, for a second, before picking up her nail polish and starting to apply another coat. “Well… I’m—I’m honestly not totally sure,” she admits. “I really shouldn’t. And he has a boyfriend. And it’s not like he’s the only guy I like right now, so…”

Jake raises his brows. “Wait, no, hold the phone, who all _do_ you like?”

“It’s definitely more than one person,” she says, instead of giving a real answer. Then she relents and says, “But, um, maybe Rich, now that he’s more of a nerd and sometimes is emotional about things? And also, um, Jenna. But don’t tell anyone, please? I don’t actually think I want to date anyone right now, I’m just…”

“Just crushing a lot, no, I get it,” Jake says with a shake of his head. “All the people who had SQUIPs the longest, huh?”

Brooke blinks, like she hadn’t put that together before.

“Hey, we all got preferences,” Jake says with a grin. “Probably something to do with those late night emotional talks, huh?”

She pouts, then lightly swats at his shoulder. “Shut up, omg. It’s not my fault I have a thing for people who are in touch with their emotions and are kind of insecure.”

“So I take it you’re over me, then?”

“Please, like anyone could be over that face of yours,” Brooke teases. “Also, if I did, you’d still fit into my criteria.”

“Thought I was too cool and confident?”

“Well, like, you _are_. But there’s other stuff,” Brooke tries to explain. “You’re not open about it or anything, but I think I know you a little too well for you to pretend like you don’t care about any of what’s happened. Like, you really think anyone who knows you totally believes that you’re not affected by your house burning down, and your parents being MIA?”

Jake’s surprised by the sudden desire to ask her to leave. It’d just prove his point, if he asked her, but he can’t help but feel uncomfortable now.

“I don’t think…” Jake swallows. “I don’t, um…”

Brooke tilts her head to the side, then sits a little closer. Then she puts a finger over Jake’s lips, to get him to stop trying to correct her. “Two things, and then we can pretend like we never talked about this. Deal?”

Jake warily nods his head.

“One? I think you invite people over, or go other people’s houses a lot, to avoid being alone here,” she points out. “Even on weekdays, you’re willing to hang out with someone for hours after school, pretty much every day of the week.”

“I mean—it’s, I used to have more extracurriculars and stuff. It’s weird just being home.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just saying, it’s something you might want to think about,” she says lightly. “And two, you’re not always a good judge of how you come across to people who know you well. You’re like, the biggest extrovert I know and you’re great at charming people, but man, you suck at hiding things. You’re a good guy, Jake, but you’re literally one of the easiest people to manipulate because you just… want to prove to everyone that you’re perfect.”

“Damn, just roast me, huh?” Jake tries to force a laugh, awkwardly pushing her hand away. But it’s pretty obvious that he’s a little hurt by her accusations.

“Oh, Jake…” Brooke sighs, then reaches out and cups his cheek. “I’m telling you this because I’m _worried_ about you and no one else has the balls to ask you if you’re okay,” she says, and lightly pokes him in the chest, just barely avoiding smudging her polish. “Either they’re distant because of weird stuff that’s happened this last year, or they’re too busy with their own problems, or they just don’t know you well enough to realize that you’re not doing as well as you’re pretending.”

Jake winces. It’s not fair to his friends, it really, really isn’t, but he can’t deny that Brooke has at least 80% of a point.

She finishes it off by lightly tapping his chest again, this time more gently, and with more palm than finger. “…And even if the others won’t, you at least deserve to know that someone cares about you, you big, dumb jerk.”

“Really feelin’ the love.”

“You’d better be, because I have a whole plan b made up to really get you to see. Even made myself some notes on my phone. Do you want to read ‘em?”

“I think I’ll pass,” Jake says. There’s a small smile on his face, mostly unbidden. “And I think I’ll skip the heart-to-heart for now. You said if I heard you out we could pretend like we never talked about this—I’m taking you up on that.” Seeing her face fall, Jake’s quick to take hold of her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “It means enough for now that you’re like, _willing_ to listen. Promise, if I feel like I need to spill everything, you’ll be my go-to. But I don’t really think I could handle totally falling apart right now. I mean, if I don’t keep me together, who will?”

Brooke returns the squeezes, though looks a little sad. “You’re just putting off the inevitable, but… if you’re really sure, Jake. Just don’t fall apart before you can come talk to me, okay?”

“Promise. Cross my heart. Only way you wouldn’t be my go-to is if someone else gets to me first.” Seeing the _Look_ she gives him, Jake grins. “Hey, I don’t want to fall apart in front of anyone else if I can help it, but sometimes shit happens.”

“True.” Brooke finally pulls away, then blows on her nails one last time, still blessedly unsmudged despite all the risky hand-gestures and touches they’d been sharing. “Well. I guess if you’re really emotioned-out for the day, we could put something on and like, not think of anything serious for a couple hours?”

“…Deal.”

It’s not really satisfying, and the conversation for the rest of the night is kind of stilted. But it’s… something. It makes him feel something that he barely remembers how to feel. He’s just not totally sure what that feeling is, exactly.

\--

“So, say I did go back to working on the SQUIP-script,” Michael says out of the blue. “How would we… like, define SQUIPs? As someone who’s had them, you seem like you’d know a little better?”

It’s not the question he’s expecting when he and Michael are playing back-to-back games of Mario Kart.

“They’re things that make it look like you can all you ever wanted if you just follow its instructions,” Jake finally says, after successfully curving around a particularly sharp turn. “…and they make it super, super easy to do the stuff you want to do. Like, mind over matter to the nth degree.”

“Really?” Michael asks. “I thought… That’s not what it sounded like when I was talking to Jeremy about it.”

“You could always sit in on one of Brooke’s like, meeting things,” Jake says. “She says you went to one or two?”

“Oh.” Michael sticks his tongue out a little, seemingly having trouble concentrating on his on-screen movement. “Yeah, those… I guess she and Jenna did kind of talk about that part of it, yeah. But they didn’t have it for near as long.”

“Jenna had hers for a few weeks, dude.”

“Right.”

Jake’s quiet for a few moments, before curiosity finally gets the best of him. “So like, why ask?” he finally says. “I mean. If you’re still abandoning the project, and all.”

It’s quiet again, and Jake’s starting to worry that he overstepped friend-boundaries by forcing Michael to maybe talk about feelings, something that Jake isn’t a fan of himself, so clearly no one else would like it either, right? But to his relief, Michael speaks up after a pretty weighty silence. “I don’t know. It’s just… Everyone’s had such different experiences with the SQUIP, but the one common factor is like, ‘it figures out what you want and then helps you go after it’, right?”

“Yeah, that’s… basically the whole thing it’s supposed to do for you. It’s just that teenagers are super bad at choosing things that aren’t objectively horrible.”

“Right, right.” Michael comes in first, predictably, then puts his controller down while Jake finishes up the race. Once they’re both done, Jake sets his aside, too, and Michael uses Jake’s undivided attention to sit a little closer. “It’s just… Was Jeremy’s… messed up, or something?”

“I don’t know what you mean? It seemed to have a pretty clear goal in mind.”

“Yeah, but… He clearly didn’t want that goal at the end.”

Jake purses his lips, then quirks them a little to the side. “No, that’s not it,” he says after a moment, expression still indecisive. “At least, I don’t think that’s it. When we were linked up, we all had a good sense of what other people wanted, and how our goals could fit into others’ goals. That way we could assist each other by prioritizing the right stuff, rather than getting in each other’s way.”

“Uh huh?”

“So… Jeremy’s goal was still to be popular, and well-liked, and date Christine.” When Michael’s face falls, Jake reaches out and puts a hand on Michael’s knee. “I mean! It’s not, like—Okay, hear me out. He still had those goals, yeah. It’s just that there was a really big conflict of other stuff that came up. The rest of us could feel it, that’s why we were pressuring him so much, ‘cause our SQUIPs were all like ‘hey, make sure Jeremy doesn’t fuck this up for the rest of us and all our dreams will come true’, you know?”

Michael looks like he very much does not know, but Jake tries to push past it.

“Anyways, so like, the big conflicts with Jeremy were that one, he didn’t like the idea of SQUIPping other people without their consent,” Jake says. “And two, he liked Christine for Christine, not SQUIPstine.”

The play on words gets a weak laugh out of Michael, but at least it’s something. “Just those two?”

“Mainly, yeah. He was super upset that the SQUIP had taken control of his body to distribute the SQUIPs. Though I think Jenna had something to do with it, too, come to think of it; she definitely helped.” Jake drums his fingertips against the bedspread. “And you know the whole thing about Jeremy giving Christine Mountain Dew Red as one of his biggest acts of free will while being SQUIP’d. I mean, it’s not like it’s supposed to ever be 100% in control anyways, you’re supposed to have some level of free will no matter what, from what I can gather. It’s just like… better at arguing than teenagers, you know?”

“Right.” Michael looks conflicted, then leans back to lie down fully on his bed. “I guess that makes sense.” He sighs through his nose, looking at the ceiling like maybe it holds all the answers to the many, many questions he has. After a moment of silence, he stretches his fingertips upwards, making a vague gesture of helplessness. “I guess I just wish I knew how much free will a person has while they’re on it. …You know, for the play.”

“Right, for the play,” Jake says, trying to humor him. “You can write it a lot of ways, though. I mean… sympathetic protagonist who’s being totally manipulated against his will and is fighting back with all his power, or still-mostly-sympathetic protagonist who slowly goes down a dark path. Like Hamilton. And Hamlet.”

“Right, Hamlet. Should I just make the play a futuristic SQUIPpy re-do of Hamlet?”

“I mean, if you want?” Jake moves to lie down as well, lounging on his side and propping his head up on his palm, elbow supporting his weight. “I guess it’d sort of kind of fit. But the Lion King’s already a popular movie and Broadway show, and it’s kind of a retelling of Hamlet already.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Michael groans, then grabs a pillow and holds it over his face. “UGH.”

Jake reaches over and lightly pats his chest. “There, there?”

“I can’t believe I’m a washed-up scriptwriter and I’m literally still in high school.”

“Mid-life crisis at 17, you’re truly a Gen Z kid.” Jake grins, then gently tugs the pillow away from Michael. “C’mon, though. Just… examine Jeremy’s, uh, actions, and try to figure out where he falls on that hero-antihero continuum. I mean, the first lines you ever had me record was him basically admitting that he took his SQUIP out of selfish purposes, right? It seemed like you had a pretty clear idea of what you wanted his role to be back then.”

Michael looks a little guilty, peering up at Jake from behind his glasses. “I was upset because Jeremy and I were fighting,” he says, but it sounds more like an excuse than a solid explanation. “I can’t just… base a whole plot around how I was feeling at the time…”

“You sure did base a lot of your Zombies Janitors vs Corporations play on your emotions back then,” Jake fires back. When he sees the slightly hurt look in Michael’s eyes, he winces. “Sorry. That-… I didn’t mean to overstep. Just, I kind of figured, with when it was written, and…”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” Michael pulls the pillow down to his chest, hugging it tightly and staring up at the ceiling. “I was like… Totally alone, for a couple of weeks. If it wasn’t for my moms, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

It hurts to see Michael look so vulnerable, but Jake doesn’t try to shut him down. Instead, he just reaches over and gently runs a hand through Michael’s hair. It’s probably too intimate for just-friends, but Jake doesn’t want him to think that he’s not listening. “You had every right to be upset about… about everything that happened. It was a lot of bullshit.”

“Yeah.” Michael’s answer isn’t exactly reassuring. “I just… he hasn’t really, totally apologized, you know?”

Jake furrows his brows. “What?”

“Just—he hasn’t. Not about how it affected me, anyways. Saying ‘I’m sorry I got a SQUIP’ isn’t the same as ‘I’m so sorry I traded in our friendship to be cool and ignored you and left you totally isolated for weeks on end and then insulted you the one time I could actually see you,’” Michael says quickly, like he’s scared the words won’t come if he doesn’t get them out right this second. “…And I don’t expect him to apologize for that, now that it’s been months. But… I was hoping he would. It’s gonna be summer break soon, and I just feel like we haven’t really… Like…”

When Michael trails off, Jake scoots a little closer and leans over him, looking at those pretty brown eyes of his. Michael’s not really looking back, though, instead keeping his gaze on the ceiling. “Like?” Jake fills in. “What haven’t you been?”

“We got together pretty quick after he realized he liked the idea of Christine better than her herself.” Valid; it tended to happen when you had a huge crush on someone but had had maybe four conversations with that person, tops. “Which like, didn’t take too long, right? They dated for maybe three weeks after Christmas. And then Jeremy and I were together by President’s day. Right?”

“Sounds about right, yeah,” Jake said, furrowing his brows. The second semester of his junior year was almost over, now, but he could distinctly remember a few weeks in January when Jeremy and Christine were together—and then within the same month, Jeremy and Michael were the new It Couple.

Jake’s more focused on memories of Michael in March, though, when they were starting to get close. When Jake still had his leg braces and still had to go to physical therapy.

And man—Jake is starting to realize why people love spring so much. Sure, there’s allergies and temperamental weather where it’s freezing in the morning and way too hot by the afternoon—but everything’s coming to life, and…

And for his interpersonal life, Michael’s been amazing.

“So like… he and I have been together for a couple of months now, now that it’s May,” Michael finally says. “And it’s been like, a full six months since Halloween. So I figure, if I haven’t… Like, if we haven’t talked about this stuff yet, then we’re just never going to. The SQUIPs were destroyed by the end of the Christmas play, you know? And now it’s almost summer. There’s really just like, two more weeks of classes…”

Which reminds Jake, just a little, of the party looming at the edge of next week. A celebration for being almost done with school, and a time to say goodbye to seniors who were graduating and didn’t have to come to school the last week of classes.

Jake’s stomach flips at the very thought of graduating, even though it was a year away.

But fortunately Jake doesn’t  have to focus on it right now, and has a convenient excuse of focusing on Michael instead. And it isn’t exactly hard, since Michael is right here, and solid, and the easiest person in the world to spend time with.

Brooke words came to him from last night’s conversation, and he smiles a little sadly at Michael. “Have you, uh, talked to Jeremy about this?”

Michael gives him a _Look_ , before putting his hands on his face, tucking his fingers behind his glasses and covering his eyes. “No,” he admits, voice a little like a wounded cow. “I just don’t want to start anything. We just got out of an argument, the last thing I want is to like, start another one.”

“I mean, it makes sense, I guess. Chloe and I argued all the time,” Jake says. “But then we’d just break up until we were ready to be together again. So I dunno, man, I’m probably not the guy to ask when my advice is usually just ‘dump them’.”

Michael parts his middle and ring fingers, making the Star Trek _‘Live Long and Prosper’_ sign on both hands and peeking through the gap in his fingers. (And _wow_ , would past Jake laugh at him for knowing that.) “I don’t want to dump him just because he hasn’t apologized… It’s been over for like, ever.”

“And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be, like, thrilled that you’re not happy and that you’re still upset over what happened last fall,” Jake points out. “I dunno what type of not-happy he’d be, but if he really likes you as much as he says he does, then damn, Michael, I don’t know why he’d want you walking on eggshells around him.”

“But what if he thinks getting together was an apology enough?”

The fingers are back to being closed, and Jake is almost grateful, because without Michael’s brown eyes distracting him, it’s easier to focus on the sheer ridiculousness of that statement.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“You heard me. What if like—he just… Like, he got together as his apology to me?”

“Then that’s some absolute bullshit,” Jake says definitively. He gently takes hold of Michael’s wrists, then slowly coaxes them away from his friend’s eyes. “You… really think that he’d just be with you because he feels guilty or something?”

Michael bites his lip, but doesn’t answer.

“Michael… Damn. I-I really wish I could like, tell you one way or another, man, but I don’t know him well enough to say for sure.” When Michael looks the tiniest bit crestfallen, Jake can’t help but panic a little. He places Michael’s hands over his middle, then tenderly folds Michael’s hands into each other. Then he cups both of Michael’s cheeks to coax the other boy to look up at him. “Look, all I can say is that you’re an awesome guy and literally anyone would be so, so lucky to have you. I’ll, uh, do my best to be happy for you if Jeremy and you work it out,” he says, then plows on ahead before Michael can ask why he’d have to ‘do his best’ instead of just being happy. “—And I’ll be happy enough if you decide that you want a break from him to figure things out. I just want to see you stop being so… Confused and worked up about all this. You know?”

Michael’s face feels hot under his hands.

Jake has to try really, really hard not to think about that, and why it might be.

On one hand, maybe he just thoroughly embarrassed his friend. But on the other…

Jake’s thumb gently slides up and down the apple of one of Michael’s cheeks, appreciating the soft skin underneath.

If this were anyone else, Jake wouldn’t care that Michael had a boyfriend—he’d just go for it, and kiss him. But this isn’t just anyone. It’s Michael. The first person who really made him feel seen. And if Michael just wants to be friends, then—

“I think he and I need to take a break.”

Jake’s heart skips a beat.

“You— What?”

“Or, you and I—someone. Both. I don’t know. _Fuck_.” Michael’s face feels hotter than before, and he huffs out a breath. “I… I don’t know what I should do here, Jake. This isn’t fair to Jeremy, though. Or… Or you. And I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Jake feels his heart sink.

He pulls away, hands coming off of his friend’s face. Jake moves to sit next to him instead, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Right,” he chokes out. “I, yeah. That makes sense. Sorry if it seemed like I was… like I was pressuring you.” This isn’t the confirmation he wanted, that Michael likes him more than a friend. This is his nightmare version of that confession. “I just… _really_ like you, Michael. I thought I could just… not press the issue. But I guess I gave myself away.”

The expression on Michael’s face is one of the most heartbroken things he’s ever seen.

Jake feels like he’s just kicked a puppy.

He imagines his own face is pretty similar.

“…I should get going,” Michael finally says. Then, he slowly gets up off the bed and moves towards the door. He hesitates, though, before he can actually exit. Then he reaches for Jake’s hand and gently squeezes it, and—

And then Michael leans in.

 _And_.

It’s not a proper kiss.

But it’s on the cheek, and warm, and gentle, and everything Jake had hoped it would be.

Michael pulls away with a conflicted expression on his face. Then, without a word, and without letting Jake say anything, Michael leaves.

Jake sits back on the edge of his bed.

The hollow, cold feeling in his chest won’t be going away any time soon. That much he already knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> headcanons for brooke:  
> -she DEFINITELY still likes jake but wont admit it because she can tell he really likes someone else, so she'll keep it low key.  
> -also probably likes christine and chloe but tbh this girl just crushes on anyone who seems vulnerable  
> -her first hollywood crush is probably neville longbottom because he's the exact sort of boy she wants, deep down  
> -her nail polish coping mechanism? mine  
> -she would major in computer science because i say so
> 
> things to keep in mind for jake:  
> -teenage boy who is not perfect....... and also bear in mind he feels very alone yet repeatedly people close to him are telling him to open up. then he gets shut down in this chapter as soon as he’s trying to be a little vulnerable with Michael (even if it’s for Michael’s sake). he’s gonna have a bad time.  
> things to keep in mind for jeremy:  
> -teenage boy who is not perfect. he’s Also gonna have a bad time because his one constant wants a break. obviously that’s Michael’s right but I doubt Jeremy will see it like that cuz his biggest flaws in this fic are taking Michael for granted and being a little selfish / manipulative at times even if he doesn’t realize it or doesn’t intend to

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me a little more inspired to write more... yknow, just so we’re on the same page
> 
> Additionally: PSA. Authors want validation same as anyone else in fandom. So for this, and any other story you see that makes you feel giddy inside... the policy ought to always be, “if you liked it, comment.”  
> I’m not the type of person who writes just for me. I'm happy for people who can do that, but like... I'm an incredibly busy person and writing fanfiction and posting it publically doesn't benefit me, it benefits you. The thing that benefits me is seeing people who enjoy it leaving comments about what they liked. Seriously, guys. If it was for me, I’d maladaptively daydream instead and never bother writing. So please comment!   
> And hey, just so I don't sound too selfish-- Comment on ALL the fics that inspire you. I promise you, it'll make that writer's day. Commenting is the most surefire way to make a writer post more of the stuff y'all like. I'm not perfect about commenting, either, but if you specifically keep up with every new chapter in a fic, or every new fic by an author, or if you've ever re-read a fic... consider telling the writer just how much their fics mean to you.


End file.
